


the birds

by cupcakekillian



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, also big brother dave, but sexy, idk there's captain swan so read if you like, okay so it's like angels and demons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 63,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7068850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakekillian/pseuds/cupcakekillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet Emma Swan: mother, detective, and angel. She's just trying to get through her eternal afterlife in one piece. Naturally the universe has other plans for her. When a murder occurs in the divine community, she must enlist the help of angels and demons alike to help crack the case. Enter Killian Jones, a mysterious demon who has every intention of making Emma's life a living hell. Angel/Demon AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> This has been done before and I'm sure other attempts are better than mine, but I thought I'd give it a shot. Kudos, reviews, and bookmarks make my day. There is a depiction of a crime scene at the bottom so read at your own risk!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: cupcake-killian.tumblr.com :)

**_“It is one to me whether I live or die. All I ask is for love to remain with me” - Joseph Surin, S.J._ **

 

 

Her story was not a happy one. 

 

People liked to pretend they wanted to hear happy stories, but that wasn’t true. People wanted tragedy. People wanted blood, and sacrifice, and star-crossed lovers. They wanted a train wreck. Maybe it made them feel better about their own lives. Maybe it was just more entertaining when things went array. Didn’t really matter, she had never been good with people, so naturally she didn’t understand their behavior. She would’ve much preferred a happy story, but she was Emma Swan so she didn’t get one. Emma Swan was the living definition of tragedy. Living being a loose term.

 

Life was funny. Death was funnier.

 

The irony wasn’t lost on her. She was in a lecture regarding the dangers of texting and walking. Her teenage son, Henry, had already zoned out a while back. Normally, she’d give him a nudge and tell him to pay attention, but she let it slide. This was the fourth seminar they’d attended since school started two months ago. Henry went to the best school in Boston, Emma always tried to give her son the very best, but they pushed the issue of safety a bit hard. She was convinced they’d encase all the kids in bubble wrap if the parents would consent. Besides, Henry knew first-hand the dangers of texting and walking.

 

It’s how she died.

 

Texting and walking. 

 

Not the most glamorous way to go mind you, she would’ve much preferred a more noble death; saving a baby from a burning building type of thing. Fate had never smiled on her too kindly. So that’s why on a perfectly average Tuesday in March she’d walked into a busy intersection, head buried in her phone, and a semi-truck had barreled into her. The force had snapped her spine in two and she had died on impact. To this day, her name was a warning mothers in North Adams, Massachusetts gave their children about looking up from your phone before you crossed the street. It wasn’t entirely her fault though; she’d never had a mother to warn her of those particular dangers. It was easier to blame the woman who had left her on the side of a freeway then admit it was just one of the many idiotic moves she’d made in her short life. 

 

Moves that had continued to follow her into her endless afterlife. 

 

How one could have led so sinful an existence and still be granted the Gift, capital G, was well beyond her limited scope of understanding. The universe had a funny way of working itself out. She’ll admit it had been quite the experience staring down at her broken, mangled, and clearly deceased body on that perfectly average Tuesday in March. Then there was the fact that no one in her vicinity could see her. She’d waved and screamed and flailed her arms around until she accepted that maybe this was it. Maybe this was what she was condemned to; wandering around for the rest of eternity unable to connect with anyone. It wasn’t until she met Mary Margaret that things began to turn around. 

 

When the police had finally identified her, and it had taken awhile because Emma Swan had learned long ago how to be invisible, they set about finding her next of kin. That had quickly turned into a bust, because Emma Swan didn’t have any family except for a terrified 6 year old asking what had happened to his mom. What Henry didn’t realize was that this mother had been by his side since shortly after her accident. She stuck by him, whispering into his ear that everything would be okay, even though she had no idea what was happening, as police took him into custody. She traveled with him and a social worker as they made their way to Boston. Henry had been temporarily placed into an orphanage in the city as they worked to put him with a foster family. She decided at that moment that maybe this was hell; watching her son be thrown into the same system she had spend her youth trying to escape. This was the thought process she’d been working through when she slammed into Mary Margaret.

 

She’d seen the woman, a social worker, walking the halls before. She had a jet black pixie cut and wide, green, “trust me”,  eyes set in an oval face. She was wearing a white, lace blouse with a forest green cardigan and dark blue jeans. She had a soft, comforting way about her which probably helped with the frightened and confused children. Emma scrambled to gather up the papers the woman had dropped when they collided, muttering fumbled apologies as she shoved them into her hands. She could see Henry being ushered down the hallway by his social worker, and she was hastily trying to rejoin him before she realized something was off. Since her death, she hadn’t been able to touch anything, since she seemingly lacked a physical form, but that hadn’t been the case with this woman. Emma’s hand shot out and grasped the woman’s wrist, startling Mary Margaret, who locked eyes with her. _Locked eyes with her._

 

“You can see me?” Emma cried, hand tightening in what had to be an uncomfortable grip around the woman’s wrist, although Mary Margaret did not flinch.

 

The woman looked temporarily confused as she took in Emma’s wild expression, before understanding lit up her features. Her eyes suddenly had a mischievous glint to them as though Emma had just told her a secret. “Why of course I can, Blessed One.”

 

“No one else can,” Emma blurted. Maybe this woman was crazy, having just referred to her as a blessed one, but she could see her and that was everything.

 

“The humans can’t see you.”

 

Definitely crazy. “Pardon me?” Emma asked, suddenly wary. She straightened up from her crouched position and, because her hand was still grasping her wrist, Mary Margaret followed. 

 

“You’re in an ethereal state, it’s our basic line of defense when we’re in distress. Humans can’t see you when you’re like this.”

 

“Who the hell is we?” Emma sputtered. She was surprised by the sudden feeling of lightheadedness that came over her when the word “hell” passed her lips. 

 

Mary Margaret’s expression shifted back into one of confusion and a expression that Emma easily identified as pity flitted across her face. “Oh my dear, don’t you know what you are?”

 

**OOO**

 

“And that is why we must be vigilant while we cross the street!” Henry’s teacher’s enthusiastic screech pulled Emma out of her thoughts. She joined the other parents in a round of applause for what would _surely_ be a life-saving seminar. The teacher looked incredibly self-satisfied as she exited the podium.

 

“You ready to go, kid?” Emma asked as she stood up and stretched her legs. Henry immediately copied her actions and Emma had to choke down the lump in her throat at the fact that he was taller than her. At some point, Henry had shifted from her little boy into a man and it scared her. He was growing older and she was forever frozen. 

 

“Yeah, Mom, just give me a minute,” Henry replied over his shoulder as someone caught his eye from across the room. She watched as he made his way over to Violet Percy, a girl in his grade that he’d taken a shine to. Emma, of course, had looked into her extensively. She was an honors student, president of the equestrian club, and tutored elementary students on the weekends. Not quite good enough for her son, but Emma could let her slide. Especially given Violet’s thoughts towards her son.

 

Naturally, she had no idea Emma could hear her.

 

They weren’t prayers per say, because Violet’s family was atheist (Emma had also discovered that in her research), which meant they were harder to pick up on. When humans prayed, regardless of the religion, Emma’s kind heard them. Hearing voices grows old quite quickly, and Emma had learned to tune them out lest they drive her crazy. Thoughts were easier. She had to try and pick those out. It didn’t take much effort, but it did require her focus. Luckily, Violet wasn’t particularly guarded with her thoughts, and Henry was often on her mind. She liked her son. A lot.

 

So Emma didn’t interrupt him as he made his way over to Violet. She simply watched him out of the corner of her eye while she gathered up her purse. Which is why she didn’t see Kim Cardino, President of the PTA, making her way over to her.

 

“Emma Swan!” the woman called, her voice ringing out so shrilly, Emma was surprised the windows didn’t shatter. She briefly debated teleporting to the car. Henry would know where to find her and she could be out so fast people would think her presence was a trick of the light. Anything to avoid Kim “you-buy-your-clothes-at-Target-how-cute” Cardino. But Emma had never been one to run away from a fight so she grit her teeth and turned around. 

 

“Kim! How are you?” Emma asked in a sickly sweet voice. Anyone who knew her knew it was a front, but then again, none of these people knew her. 

 

“I’m a bit put out if I’m being honest with you, Emma! When are you going to join the parent’s leadership council?” Kim asked, voice taking on what was supposed to be mock anger. Emma had a special sense for human emotions though, and she could feel the hostility rolling off this woman as if she was being physically hit. Her kind was incompatible with feelings of hostility, vengeance, anger, greed, and all those good things. It made them physically ill. Emma’s natural flight-or-fight instincts began to kick in and she realized she needed to get out of here. 

 

Easier said than done. 

 

“Oh, I don’t think I’m leadership council material, although I do appreciate the fact that you’ve considered me.”

 

“Nonsense! Anyone is welcome on the parent’s leadership council!” Kim chirped. Emma fought to keep from rolling her eyes. 

 

It was the biggest load of crap she’d heard in a long time. Emma had met some unwelcoming people in her life, but Kim and her army of Prozac-popping, Prada wielding mannequins were the worse. Emma Swan was farfrom their ideal candidate. Emma was the definition of what they _weren’t_ looking for. She knew exactly why Kim was attempting to sequester her into this. Kim was the type of woman who needed to know everything about everyone and wouldn’t take no for an answer. The harder you pushed against her, the more Kim Cardino thought you were hiding something from her. 

 

Paranoia was a dangerous thing. 

 

Kim wasn’t all bad though. Emma could easily detect the points of light within her. They weren’t blindingly obvious, but they were there. In Kim the darkness was simply a facade; it was only surface deep. If you looked a little harder, Kim Cardino was fundamentally a good person. She cared deeply for her children and still loved the husband who was clearly more interested in his twenty something receptionist then his aging wife. Which made it so much harder for Emma to simply brush her off.   
  
Saving people was engrained in her. It was supposed to be the only focus of her afterlife. If a soul was lost, Emma couldn’t help but try and drag them back into the light. 

 

“Listen Kim, I really appreciate the offer, but I’m super swamped with work at the moment and you know I’m a single mom. I’m just going to have to pass.” Emma gave her a tight smile, the only kind she could muster, and turned to leave, hoping the woman would let it drop. 

 

She felt Kim reach out and grasp her wrist, and Emma couldn’t help her instinctual reaction. The hostile vibes Kim had been giving off had already served to heighten Emma’s defenses. All it took was that one little touch to cause a physical reaction. 

 

It wouldn’t hurt her, just a small electric shock that pulsed down Emma’s arm and into Kim’s hand. It had the desired effect, the woman quickly released her with a gasp. The look in Emma’s eyes was what sent her reeling backwards. She could feel the power buzzing beneath her skin, something eternal and otherworldly begging to be let out. She shoved it down. Utilizing that kind of power had dangerous consequences. Every use pushed you further away from your human self, not to mention the dark path it could drag you down.

 

“Like I said,” she repeated firmly, reigning herself back in, “I just don’t have the time.” She gave Kim a curt nod that easily conveyed “push me again and I will end you” as she slung her bag over her shoulder and stalked off to the exit. A part of her felt bad for scaring the woman, but she knew it was necessary to get through to her.

 

Her kind may be benevolent by nature, but they were not meek.

 

When she reached the school parking lot she noticed her son standing with a group of his friends a few cars down from her own. He looked up and nodded at her, his gaze telling her he’d be right there. Emma and Henry had a unique relationship, giving birth at 17 would do that, and the two could communicate with simply a glance. Emma always did her best to give her son his privacy, but when his voice carried lowly across the parking lot, she couldn’t help but listen in.

 

“I’ve got to go, my mom is here,” he was whispering and Emma could hear his friends’ confused thoughts as to his change in tone. Henry knew she could hear him, but they didn’t.

 

“C’mon man, you said you’d come!” one of Henry’s friends, Roland, protested. Henry and Roland had known each other for quite some time. Roland was younger than the rest of the group. He had skipped a few grades because he was incredibly smart. Henry had immediately taken him under his wing at school, keeping the bullies away.  Emma had struck up a casual friendship with Roland’s dad, Robin. He was also a single parent, his wife, Marian, had died a few years back, so they looked out for each other. If one of them forgot an impending bake sale, or couldn’t pick their kid up because of work, the other was there. It was a nice little partnership they had, and Robin didn’t ask questions. He knew absolutely nothing about her past or her personal life, and he didn’t care and Emma was immensely appreciative of that.

 

“I’ve got a lot of work to do and it’s a school night,” Henry protested weakly. 

 

“Henry it’s the new _Captain America_ movie, it got great reviews and you’ll be home by 11,” another one of his friends, Grace, interjected. Emma had only met Grace on one or two occasions. One of her dads, Jefferson, was a designer at some international fashion company that Emma couldn’t pronounce. He was a frenetic man, the type of guy who you met 17 times and who never remembered you. Emma could tell he was well-meaning, but he clearly had ambitions a little too big for other people to understand. Grace’s other dad, Artie, was much more laid-back and soft-spoken. He was a therapist, and worked with almost all of Boston’s elite. She’d enlisted his help in cracking a case a couple years back, and ever since then they’d been pretty friendly. She had no idea how the two men had found each other, but they worked quite well. That was love she supposed. 

 

“I know you guys, but I really, really can’t tonight,” Henry protested. Emma was unlocking the car now, still listening intently to the conversation going on. 

 

“Please, Henry,” this time it was Violet speaking, in her soft tinkling voice. Violet really wanted Henry to go with them, so she could get some quality time with him. In fact, her desire for him to come was so strong that it was knocking into Emma as though she were outright praying for it. Emma had to keep herself from making the girl’s wish come true; her son had strictly forbid her from meddling in his affairs.

 

“I’m sorry, Vi,” Henry whispered and Emma watched out of the corner of her eye as her son’s hand wrapped around the girl’s. “Another time. Promise,” Henry squeezed her hand and she gave him a small smile in return. Emma could feel the disappointment rolling of the girl as her son said his goodbyes and jogged over to their car. 

 

“Violet wants you to go out with her and her friends,” Emma whispered. 

 

“I know,” Henry replied curtly. Emma knew he didn’t like it when she poked around in Violet’s head. What he didn’t know was that Emma was always tuned into anyone who thought of her son. Violet just happened to think of him often.

 

“You should go.”

 

“No, today is your day and I’m spending it with you.” 

 

“You’re being ridiculous. You should be with your friends.” Henry would not be held back because of her. 

 

“But Mary Margaret said…”

 

“I don’t care what Mary Margaret said. I’m your mother and I’m telling you to go,” Emma snapped and Henry flinched at her rarely utilized “mom tone”. 

 

“Are you sure?” She could tell he was wavering if only to avoid having her chew him out. 

 

“Yes,” Emma smiled and kissed his cheek. “Anyways it’s my day so you have to do what I say.”

 

Henry gave her a brilliant smile before kissing the top of her head and skittering off to join his friends. Emma watched him go before she pulled open the door of her VW Bug and slid in, She threw her purse onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the school parking lot. The drive to her condo was a long one and she was just about to take the left turn that would lead her to the outskirts of town, when she had a change of heart and went right. She didn’t particularly want to sit in her empty condo alone and Henry was right about what Mary Margaret said. She needed to do this ritual. 

 

Emma would normally never be caught dead in Whole Foods, but it was the nearest grocery store. She perused the aisles quietly and had to keep from rolling her eyes at some of the things on display. They were literally selling water in boxes and charging three times the price of bottled water because _it was in a box_. She said a silent thank you when she reached the bakery section, because she was about one overpriced strawberry away from bitching an employee out. She quickly plucked an individual vanilla cupcake from the shelf and placed it in her cart. She debated on throwing in some quinoa just so the thing didn’t look so sad all on its own, but decided against it when she saw the price. Whole Foods was the sign of the impending apocalypse, she was sure of it.

 

She did her best to ignore the cashiers’ look of pity as she placed her cupcake on the conveyor belt. 

 

“Is it someone’s birthday?” the cashier asked as he rung her up.

 

Emma slammed her money down, she’d already calculated exact change, and picked her dessert up before he could place it in the bag. “I just wanted a cupcake,” she replied before she turned on her heel and stalked out of the store. She placed her cupcake in the passenger seat, briefly debated buckling it up, decided against it, and began the drive back to her home. 

 

Emma lived on Blue Hill Avenue near Franklin Field, arguably one of the most dangerous parts of Boston. It’d been home since she’d followed Henry to the city shortly after her accident. One of the perks of being in such a shit neighborhood was that it was a relatively spacious condominium. In fact, that’s what had first drawn her here; it was one of the only two-bedroom places she could afford with her salary at the time. Money had begun to come in after she had established herself as a bail bonds(wo)man, but she’d never had the heart to leave. She liked her neighbors (especially the old woman who lived next door, Granny, who often looked after Henry when Emma was away for extended periods of time), and there was something about little orphan Emma that never fit in anywhere “nice”. There was also something in her that liked to be around the chaos. Mary Margaret had explained that her desire to help lost souls probably played a role, but Emma had shrugged her off. She liked her crappy little condo; it matched her crappy little life, and so she stayed. The various gangs in the area knew not to mess with her; something in their biological human nature told them they shouldn’t incur her wrath. They were right about that. 

 

She trudged up the three front steps that led to her blue front door (Blue Hill Avenue, blue front door, clever, right?). It took her a bit of time to unlock the three dead bolts on the door. The moment Henry went off to college she was removing two of them. Her own life, if you could call it that, didn’t mean much to her, but Henry was her everything. She’d put his safety above all else, including her impatient ways. 

 

Her door opened unceremoniously and she shoved her way in, flicking on the lights. She dropped her cupcake unceremoniously on the linoleum kitchen counter, before she began searching for a candle. She found her prize buried in the back of a drawer, it was leftover from Henry’s birthday a few months back. Emma popped open the plastic lid on the cupcake and grabbed a paper plate from a cabinet. She placed the candle in the center and stared at the sad sight for a moment. With barely a twitch of her fingers, the wick of the candle caught fire. Emma slouched down so that her forearms were resting on the counter, her chin sitting on top of them. She was alone on her birthday. 

 

She knew Henry would’ve been here had she asked him to be, but she never wanted him to miss out because of her. She wouldn’t even be celebrating this stupid date (it was pointless at this point, she had infinite birthdays), but one of the things Mary Margaret always stressed was the importance of birthdays. It helped them hold onto their humanity, and for Emma, who clung to her human life, that was everything. When Emma stopped keeping track of time, when she stopped marking days and years, that’s when _centuries_ would begin to blur together. She just couldn’t afford that. Not when everyday her son grew a little bit taller and a little bit older and she stayed exactly the same. So she did the rituals, she did the human thing, in the hopes that one day, maybe, she could fool herself into believing she was one.

 

“Happy Birthday, Emma,” she whispered as she blew out the candle. 

 

She ate the cupcake out of pure habit. She couldn’t actually taste human food, and she wouldn’t get any sort of nutritional or caloric value out of it, but for a moment she almost tasted the frosting on her tongue. She was just shoving the last bit into her mouth, debating on whether to watch _Grey’s Anatomy_ or _House of Cards_ when her cellphone rang. She rolled her eyes as her phone blared out “stop, collaborate and listen,” before she could get to it. She’d changed her ringtone to Ice, Ice Baby one drunken night and always meant to change it back to Marimba, but never got around to it.  She didn’t even need to look at caller ID to know who was on the other end, he always contacted her the night of her birthday. 

 

“What?” she barked out, cupcake sticking to the inside of her esophagus, almost as soon as she slid her finger across the home screen.

 

“Nice to hear your voice too, birthday girl. How’s your day been?” the voice on the other end laughed.

 

“Uneventful, for the most part. I did nearly get into a fight with a PTA mom, but I restrained myself,” Emma smiled and she heard him chuckle.

 

“Proud of you.”

 

“Thank you for the flowers, by the way,” Emma called as she looked back at the daisies sitting on her tiny dining room table. Every year he brought her a new floral arrangement since she didn’t have a favorite flower. He always groaned about that, because trust her to be difficult even when it came to botany. 

 

“Anytime, Emma,” he laughed.

 

“So are you going to text me the address,” Emma sighed into the phone as she scooped up her keys.

 

“You sure you don’t mind coming in, I hate to bother you on your birthday.” Emma could practically see his apologetic wince as though he were standing right next to her.

 

“You always bother me on my birthday. I’ll see you in 20.”

 

**OOO**

 

She found him standing just outside the house, hands on his hips as he waited for her. He was wearing sunglasses in the dead of night and she fought the urge to roll her eyes at his antics. She cut the engine and stepped outside into the darkness. It had just begun to rain so she pulled the hood of her (faux) fur-lined black leather jacket up around head.

 

“David!” She called as she made her way over to him. He whipped off his glasses when he saw her, quickly dashing over to her and pulling her into a bear hug. 

 

“Thank you so much for coming,” he muttered before he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back so he could look at her. “I have to say, little sister, you aren’t aging very well,” he laughed.

 

David was the only human, besides Henry, who knew her secret. She’d known him since she was 7; they’d bounced around the foster care system together. They’d kept in touch until he’d gone off to Vanderbilt on a football scholarship and she’d run away from the family she’d been living with. He’d tracked her down about five years ago, shortly after her death, and the two had essentially picked up right where they left off. Turns out, he’d followed his dreams and become a police officer in the Boston PD. He’d occasionally call her in on difficult cases, saying that she had a keen eye and a knack for catching bad guys. She knew it was just because he wanted to help her make a little extra cash. Her secret had been spilled one day when a perp had shot her, point-blank, 6 times and she’d been completely unaffected. He’d originally been incredibly skeptical of the whole thing, and right before he’d had her committed, Emma was finally able to convince him by reading his mind. Well, that whole episode had opened up a host of new possibilities and David began calling her in on more and more cases. Emma had quickly discovered that her knack for knowing when people were lying had extended, and even improved, in her afterlife. 

 

So they did the partner thing for a bit, never permanently because Emma refused to be a “real cop”. Which is why no one looked at her sideways when David lifted the police tape to give her access to the crime scene. The house they were entering was stunningly beautiful. The architecture was reminiscent of Cape Cod; colonial design, large windows, pitched roof, the whole nine yards. The decor on the inside was beautiful as well, lots of creams and tans with subtle blue accents. David handed her a set of rubber gloves which she quickly snapped on as they made their way upstairs. 

 

“It’s the same stuff we’ve been dealing with every year, three bodies found in an upper-class Boston home. This time it’s two women and a man. The message is the same as always, and it appears to have been written in human blood. What’s interesting this time, however; is that he appears to have changed his MO,” David explains as they make their way down the first floor hallway.

 

“Really?” Emma asks. Whoever this psycho is, he’s been doing the same thing every year. Emma was surprised to learned that had changed.

 

“Whereas normally the bodies are simply placed next to one another, this time he’s done something… interesting to them,” David explained as Emma began to enter the room where the crime had taken place. She was stopped when she felt David grip her forearm. “That’s not all.”

 

“No?”

 

“No. There’s something unique about these victims, Emma. They’re… well they’re… perhaps it’s easier if i show you,” David muttered as he gestured for her to enter.

 

What was waiting for her in that room was a sight to behold. She’d seen some pretty gruesome sights while on the job, but this definitely took the cake. There were three victims, all appeared to be in their mid-twenties. One of the women was face down on the carpet; the perp had clearly dumped her body unceremoniously on the carpet. She had slash marks up and down her back as though she had been whipped and lacerations on her wrists that suggested she’d been tied up at one point. The second body, the other woman, had been placed in a kneeling position. Her mouth had been taped over and her hands were bound behind her back. The third victim had been impaled on a large metal pole that had been attached to the wall. His body slumped forward and there was severe bruising on his face. Her eyes then traveled to the message written in bright, red blood on the stark, white wall. “Nesir sah roivas eht”. The perp had written it at the scene of every single crime. The situation would’ve been off-putting enough, but there was something more, something that was unsettling deep within her bones. 

 

“Emma, come over here,” David called as he walked carefully over to the third victim, the one who had been impaled.

 

Emma was in the process of making her way over to him, trying to push back the sudden wave of nausea that was overcoming her, when the strangest damn thing happened. She was walking by the kneeling body, when the sudden urge to defend herself kicked in. All of her instincts went into hyperdrive and she had to screw her eyes shut and take a calming breath to keep from lashing out. The feeling was gone just as quickly as it came and she opened her eyes to see David watching her curiously.

 

“I’m okay,” she muttered as she went to stand next to him.

 

“You sure? You disappeared there for a second,” David replied hesitantly. 

 

“I’m fine, just drop it” Emma brushed him off aggressively. She knew it wasn’t fair but she hated when people took care of her. “What was it you wanted to show me?” she asked in a slightly calmer tone. David eyed her skeptically, but knew her well enough not to push.

 

“We were examining the bodies and one of the other men on the force, Graham, you remember Graham?” David asked as he tried and failed to keep his voice nonchalant. 

 

“Graham, the one you tried to set me up with?” Emma replied dryly. 

 

“Yes, that’s the one. You never called him back, by the way.”

 

“Seriously? You’re going to do this in a room full of murder victims? Seriously?” Emma knew David had her best interests at heart, but _seriously?_

 

“No time like the present.”

 

“ _David_.”

 

“Right, okay, so, Graham was examining the bodies and he came across these,” David pulled the victim’s shirt down so Emma could get a clear look at his shoulder blades. “I didn’t think anything of it at first, but then I thought they looked awfully similar to yours and… Emma? Are you okay?”

 

She wanted to scream that, no, in fact, she was not okay. She wanted him to get her out of there. She wanted to throw up, or cry, or go fucking nuclear, but all she could do was stare down at the man’s backside. It explained why she’d been on edge like never before when she walked into this room. There was something deeper going on here, something far more dangerous than she was equipped to handle. 

 

She looked back down at the two small bumps gracing the man’s back. Right where his wings would come out. Which meant…

 

_Don’t you know what you are?_

 

Angel. 

 


	2. Queen's Speech

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta, Mona! (o-u-a-timer.tumblr.com)

**_“If you have fun, fine. It's not all life and death.” - Bill Palatino_ **

 

It took her a while to get her breathing under control. It didn’t help that David was staring at her like she’d grown a second head. It was hard to kill an angel. There were only a handful of ways they could be destroyed, and if they put up a fight it was even harder. Besides, humans had no reasons to kill angels.

 

But it wasn’t just an angel that had been murdered.

 

She made her way over to the kneeling body, the one she’d had an adverse reaction to. She could hear David asking what she was doing, before he finally realized he wasn’t about to get any answers out of her and shut his mouth. She had a sinking feeling about what type of creature this was. A feeling that was quickly confirmed when she tugged down the girl’s shirt and saw the two scars on her shoulder blades. It would’ve been where her wings had been, before they’d been ripped off when she’d succumbed to darkness, at least. 

 

Demon.

 

Every demon had been an angel at some point. Her kind liked to refer to them as “The Fallen”, because demon was supposedly too harsh a term and they  _ were _ just fallen angels. Angels who’d gone down a dark path for one reason or another. Emma would be lying if she said she hadn’t felt the pull of the darkness every now and again. It was like a constant whisper in her ear, a whisper that would get louder if she used her powers, or if something tragic happened. Emma Swan was no stranger to tragedy, so the whisper was pretty constant.

 

“Emma?” David tried again, and this time she heard him.

 

“She’s a demon,” Emma called over her shoulder as she pulled the girl’s shirt back up. 

 

“A demon?” David replied incredulously. He’d never seen a demon before as far as she knew.

 

“Yup.” Emma made her way over to the woman on the floor. It was hard to tell with all the lacerations, but Emma couldn’t see any bumps or scars. This victim had been human. Emma straightened up and pulled off one of her rubber gloves. She fished her iPhone out of her jean pocket and began taking pictures of the crime scene. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was allowed to do that, but she’d need the pictures later and David didn’t protest.

 

“She doesn’t look like a demon,” David said and Emma turned to see him hovering over the victim. 

 

Emma rolled her eyes and stuffed her phone back into her pocket. “Because I look like the stereotypical angel, don’t I, Dave?” Emma asked rhetorically as she went to stand next to her brother.

 

“You know what I mean; I didn’t know if demons looked… ya know,” David placed one hand on his hip and began to gesture abstractedly in the air. “Evil,” he finished.

 

“Demons, much like angels, can hide their true appearance. Helps them get closer to humans,” Emma explained.

 

“Why would they need to get close to humans?” David asked. Her brother had never truly understood her role as an angel; but accepted it had something to do with helping humanity. 

 

“Oh you know corruption, destruction, and they have this fun little habit of sucking out a person’s soul,” Emma smirked as she knocked her hip playfully into her brothers’. 

David gulped visibly. “Okay, so demons are bad then.”

 

“Demons are bad,” Emma affirmed.  _ Bad  _ was a bit of an understatement. Angels and demons, per the stereotype, were mortal enemies. They were constantly involved in a battle between good and evil. It’d had led to some of the greatest confrontations in history; The Hundred Years War, the War of the Roses, the American and French revolutions, the Civil War, and both World Wars to name a few. Things had been relatively quiet in recent years, but Emma wasn’t foolish enough to believe that would last. Angels were light and demons were dark; they would always clash. 

 

“But this one was murdered,” David, being helpful as always, pointed out the obvious.

 

“Yes, this one was murdered,” Emma reiterated. It was a curious thing. Demons were nearly as hard as angels to kill. The only reason they were easier to destroy was because there were more ways to do it. Whoever had done this had to have been incredibly powerful, or incredibly determined, in order to pull this feat off. 

 

“So, what are we dealing with here? A vigilante? A pissed off human with an agenda against supernatural beings?” David asked.

 

“I’m not a fucking vampire, angels aren’t supernatural beings.”

 

“Sorry I didn’t use the right terminology. Besides, you do have wings, much like a bat,” David teased and Emma made a grand show of rolling her eyes before she shoved him a little too hard. “Ow,” he muttered as he rubbed his bicep. 

 

“I didn’t push you that hard.” She did. “Anyways, I don’t think it’s a human. That victim,” Emma gestured to the body laying face down on the floor. “Was human and look how it was treated. Whoever this was dumped it like it was trash. Apart from the lacerations on the back, it doesn’t seem like he cared very much about this victim.” Emma moved to stand over by the angel. “Look at this victim’s face,” Emma said as she pointed out the bruises. The man’s face was still swollen, and it was clear that he’d been severely beaten before he died. “This kind of damage takes serious rage. Not to mention that impaling him on a pole post-mortem was completely unnecessary. This kind of damage implies a personal vendetta.”

 

“How do you know the pole thing happened post-mortem,” David asked.

 

“Angels are an impenetrable bunch and this is a simple metal pole. It wouldn’t have moved through his body had this happened when he was still alive.” David nodded as he took in her words. She appreciated her brother’s never-ending trust in her. None of this could be easy for him to grasp, but he believed everything she told him without hesitation. Faith was what gave angels their strength, and Emma was incredibly reliant on David when it came to hers. “Now over here,” Emma said as she crouched next to the demon. “We have our victim posed in a submissive state. They weren’t beaten as intensely though, which is interesting.”

 

“What do you think it means?”

 

“I’m not sure, I haven’t watched enough  _ NCIS  _ to be able to give you a concrete answer on that,” Emma replied with a smile. David smirked and jerked his head towards the door, and Emma gave him a nod signifying she would follow. She took one last look around the room, shook her head, and began removing her gloves as she exited. She and David exited the house and Emma wrapped her arms tightly around herself when she met the October air. It wasn’t that she was cold, the breeze actually felt refreshing against her skin, rather, she was doing her best to hold herself together. This case, these murders, were bad news for angels and demons alike.

 

David eyed her warily; he knew her well enough to know a breakdown was coming. Emma absolutely hated when she couldn’t figure things out, and this mystery and the threat it posed were going to drive her nuts. “What do you want to do?” David asked. Emma knew he wasn’t asking how she wanted to proceed professionally, but rather what steps she wanted to take to protect herself and the rest of the, as he’d phrased it earlier, “supernatural” community.

 

“I’m not sure,” Emma responded as she kicked at the wet pavement with the toe of her boot. “I want to know why the hell he chose now to start murdering non-humans. I’ve been consulting on these cases for three years, but he’s been at this for what, nearly a decade?”

 

“This will be the seventh year, yeah.” 

 

“What changed? People don’t just flip a switch and break their old habits like that,” Emma muttered. She tried to think of a reason, any damn reason, but found herself coming up short.

 

David placed his hands on Emma’s shoulders and crouched down so that he was at eye-level. “Don’t stress about this, Emma. We’re going to get this whole situation sorted and everything is going to be fine,” David smiled before pulling his little sister into a hug.

 

He was lying. She knew he was lying. She had always had a knack for telling when a person was lying. Maybe it was the foster kid thing, maybe it was just an Emma thing. Didn’t really matter. The perp had been at this for seven years and they’d never come close to catching him. He was lying and she knew it, but she hugged him back anyways. “You’re right,” she muttered.

 

He wasn’t

 

Something was coming.

 

And it was going to be bad. 

 

**OOO**

 

Emma spent the night pacing around her living room. Henry had gone to bed shortly after he had gotten home, having easily sensed his mom’s unease. Emma had printed out the crime scene photos and said a silent thank-you to David, who had insisted she go all out with her printer. They were currently scattered about on her coffee table next to a bottle of whiskey. Emma examined them for the hundredth  time as she took a swig right from the bottle. Angels had a much higher tolerance for alcohol; it took them quite a bit to get drunk, but she had managed to catch a buzz at some point in the night. A buzz that was quickly fading and leaving her more and more irritable. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered before she angrily swiped the photos off the table. 

 

“Mom?” a voice called from behind her and she turned to see Henry standing in his doorway. He was wearing his school uniform; white oxford shirt, tan slacks, and a navy blazer which he was currently holding in his hand. One of his eyebrows quirked up as he took in the whiskey she was grasping. 

 

Emma looked down at it like she was suddenly surprised it was there. “I’ve been working on the case,” Emma explained as she set it down. She felt like a child whose parent had just caught them doing something they shouldn’t be. In a lot of ways, Emma and Henry’s relationship had always been like that. He was the adult. He was the one who told her strawberry Poptarts were not their own food group, who always reminded her to unplug her curling iron, and who informed her that doctor’s appointments were a yearly occurrence. She’d be completely and utterly lost without him. 

 

Henry gave her a megawatt smile as he shrugged into his blazer before taking a seat on the couch next to her. “Don’t worry, I’m not judging. What is it?” Henry asked as he nodded his head to the papers on the ground.

 

Emma looked down and was relieved to find that none of the pictures were face up. “A murder case. We get one like it every year on my birthday.”

 

Henry’s face lit up. “You don’t think it’s connected to you, do you?” 

 

Emma gave him a small smile. Even after all these years, Henry still believed his mother was of the utmost importance to the world. She never had the heart to tell him if anyone didn’t matter, it was her. “No kid, I like where you’re going, but no.” She could tell he was going to argue with her so she quickly added “what’s unique about this one is that the victims included an angel and a demon.”

 

Henry’s eyes widened as he took in his mother’s words. “Someone killed an angel  _ and  _ a demon? Why?”

 

Emma looked down at her son, who was full of nothing but excitement at this new adventure, and felt a pang of guilt. What kind of mother dragged their child into this world? Being what she was came with a lot of benefits, but it also meant she and everyone close to her was in constant danger. Emma vowed right then and there, that while she may not be the best parent, she would protect her son at any and all costs. “I don’t why someone would do this, but I do know you’re going to be late if we don’t get going,” Emma said as she hoisted herself up off the couch. 

 

Henry quickly followed her lead as he grabbed his bag off the hook by the front door. “You sure you don’t want me to stay here with you? Help you crack the case?” Henry asked as Emma pushed on her sunglasses and pulled open the door. 

 

She could tell, not just because angels could tell when someone was being sincere, but also because he was her son, that he had ulterior motives. She slid her glasses down her nose so that he could see her eyes. “What’s the test in?” she asked. Henry paused for a moment, and she could tell he was considering making something up. “You know I’ll just pluck the answer right out of your head.”

 

“It’s a Spanish project,” Henry muttered.

 

Emma gave him a shit-eating grin. 

 

Henry rolled his eyes and walked out the door, throwing a “shut up” over his shoulder as they made their way to the Bug. Emma smiled as she locked the door behind them. She waved to Granny, who was sitting on her front porch knitting a sweater, and walked down to where her son was already pouting in the car. 

 

“Oh cheer up, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Emma said as she placed the key into the ignition. It took three turns, a lot of swearing, and maybe just a little bit of magic before the thing finally sputtered to life. 

 

“It’s not going to be fine and I think this piece of crap is on its last leg,” Henry growled as he stared out the window. 

 

He knew the car comment would get to her, and boy did it ever. “This car is older than you, treat it with respect,” she shot back. What pissed her off the most was that he was right, of course he was right, she just wouldn’t admit it. Emma had always had a bit of a hoarding tendency. When she was younger it was because she hardly ever owned anything, and she clung to whatever could possibly be considered hers. After she’d died that motivation had changed. She just became so damn tired of things growing, changing, and dying when she never could. So, she never got rid of anything. 

 

The pair of them sat in silence for most of the ride, Emma stewing over her inability to age, and Henry pondering God knows what, as the houses grew bigger and bigger. 

 

They were about a block from school when Henry caved first. “I’m sorry about what I said, I know you’re sensitive, I’m just nervous is all,” Henry admitted and all of Emma’s anger melted away. 

 

Emma placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder as she pulled into the carpool line. “I know you are, but you're going to be great.”

 

“Yeah, but what if I’m not. Spanish isn’t my strongest subject and I need this A,” Henry muttered.

 

Emma knew her son put a lot of pressure on himself to do well in school. Money was tight for the two of them, and Henry tried to alleviate that burden by getting every scholarship in the book. Emma told him he didn’t need to do that, but her son always insisted. “Look, no matter what happens, you’re still the smartest kid in that school. You and I both know you have the capability to kick ass, so go do it,” Emma replied and Henry rewarded her with a small smile. 

 

“Thanks, Mom,” he said as he kissed her cheek and exited the car. 

 

Emma watched him walk for a bit before she closed her eyes and performed a little luck magic to help him get through the day. He was nearly inside when Emma, not being able to resist, leaned out the window and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Adios, Don Quixote!”

 

She swore if she wasn’t his mother, he would’ve flipped her off. 

Emma smiled as she pulled away from the school and headed to the closest Dunkin Donuts. She ordered one large, black coffee and a maple donut, and then stared at them both longingly when the barista gave them to her. Not being able to fully enjoy human food sucked. It sucked a lot. She set the coffee in the cupholder and threw the donut into the passenger seat as she made her way to the South End District. Mary Margaret and David had been trying to get her to move to the area for years. It was one of those hip and trendy neighborhoods that was about to become incredibly expensive. It bordered Roxbury, the neighborhood where the two of them worked. Roxbury was a poorer section of Boston, though nowhere near as bad as Emma’s neighborhood. It was notorious for its new police station, where David had managed to get a job, and had several child service offices where Mary Margaret worked.

 

Her best friend and her brother were practically engaged.

 

It had been incredibly weird at first, and the two of them attempted to pretend like nothing was going on, but Emma was an angel for Christ’s sake, they couldn’t hide anything from her. In fact, she was surprised she hadn’t figured it out from David, given that she could read his mind and not Mary Margaret’s, but her friend had let it slip one night. They’d been having a girl’s sleepover (not Emma’s idea), and Emma had simply asked what color she wanted to paint her toes when Mary Margaret had blurted that she’d been dating her brother for three months. While Emma had insisted that it was fine, although she’d been a little peeved they hadn't told her sooner, it took her another three months to get used to them showing physical affection in front of her. A year and a half later and they were sharing the gorgeous Victorian-style home Emma was pulling up to. She hadn’t been surprised when they moved in together, their relationship had always progressed pretty rapidly (granted Emma was infamous for moving at a  _ glacial  _ pace when it came to men), but everything had gone well from there. Besides, the two of them had never been happier, so she had given the relationship her blessing, so to speak.  

 

Emma walked through the front door, donut and coffee in hand, without knocking.

One would think she would’ve stopped doing that when she walked in on them one time shortly after they bought the house. Then again, Emma was the kind of person who seemingly made the same mistakes over and over again. Just look at all her past relationships. 

 

Thankfully, the two of them were both clothed. David was sliding into his jacket and Mary Margaret was sitting on the couch watching the news. “Hey,” Emma called as she placed the donut and coffee into David’s hands. 

 

“You’re an angel,” David smiled as he took a sip of the drink. 

 

“Clever,” Emma replied as she gave him a dry laugh. “You ready to go?” she asked Mary Margaret, who turned off the television in response. 

 

She stood up and pulled Emma into a hug, before scurrying up the stairs. “I just need to grab my purse,” she explained before she disappeared. 

 

Emma turned to David who was looking at the donut like it was his first and last love. “You’re such a cliche; cop with a love of donuts,” she laughed as she nodded to the pastry.

 

“What can I say; I’m a sucker for sweets,” David smiled before his expression turned somber. “I didn’t tell Mary Margaret about the case.”

 

Emma’s eyebrows furrowed at his statement. “You’re not the type to keep secrets,” she said slowly.

 

“I know, and I’m not. I just don’t want her to worry is all,” David explained. 

 

Emma decided not to push him on the decision. He was right, Mary Margaret was definitely a worrier. Still, she hated to keep something from her friend. “All right, she’s your girlfriend so I defer to you. But do me a favor,” Emma lowered her voice when she heard her friend on the steps. “Let me know when they ID the bodies. I’m gonna do a little digging on the side to see what I can unearth.”

 

“Are you two talking about work?” Mary Margaret called as she bounded down the final two steps. 

 

“Not at all,” David lied unconvincingly. 

 

Mary Margaret gave Emma a look that said “humans”, before she kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. “We should probably get going, don’t want to be late,” she smiled as she grabbed her coat and slung her purse higher on her shoulder. 

 

Emma smirked at her brother and placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll see you soon. Swing by the house if you get a chance, Henry misses his uncle,” she said as she followed her friend out the door. 

 

“I will. Keep doing God’s work,” David yelled as the women climbed into Emma’s car.

 

They rolled their eyes.

 

**OOO**

Emma pulled her hair back into a ponytail and readjusted her surgical mask. She and Mary Margaret charged into the oncology wing in Boston Children’s Hospital. Little kids with cancer was one of those things that Emma would never understand no matter how long she lived. She could only imagine what it would be like to be mortal and be powerless to do anything. And if it were Henry who were sick, if it were Henry who were dying and she couldn’t do anything…

 

The thought made her want to die all over again.

 

Luckily, she could do something. Being divine certainly had its drawbacks, but helping those who needed it was not one of them. In fact, the healing aspect of her powers was nearly enough to make the not aging thing worth it. She and Mary Margaret bounced around from hospital to hospital helping those that they could. Her friend was the one who suggested it might be good for Emma when she walked in to her apartment one day and found her in a catatonic state on the couch lamenting over her uselessness. Emma had been reluctant to join her, convinced that it would only make her more depressed, but all it had taken was one patient and Emma was hooked. She couldn’t stop death of course, that was beyond any being’s, divine or not, power. Still, she could speed up the healing process, or, in the worst case scenario, ease the dying process. There were the occasional miracles, but Emma had only performed one of those in a moment of desperation and she’d been wiped out for weeks afterwards. 

 

Thankfully, her current patient was pretty easy. She placed a hand on the little boy’s shoulder, nodding along as he babbled about Spiderman. Emma watched his mother out of the corner of her eye. The woman was also wearing a surgical mask, the boy’s treatments had left his immune system compromised, and was staring at her son with a sad smile. She never left her son’s bedside, and as a fellow mother, Emma sympathized with her. Luckily, her son would be fine. Emma could feel the sickness dissipating from the boy’s body. It would take the human’s machines a bit longer to detect the change, but she was confident in her work. He would survive. 

 

Mary Margaret did not appear to be faring as well. Emma could hear her muttering lowly under her breath; a quiet plea to the light to give the child another chance. Angels took their power from the forces of light and life, whereas demons were children of darkness and death. Emma said a goodbye to the mother and the boy as she walked into the hallway. She continued to watch Mary Margaret as she ripped off her surgical mask. She finally saw her friend’s face fall as Mary Margaret placed a featherlight kiss to the boy’s temple and walked out. 

 

“Too far gone,” Mary Margaret explained as she pushed the mask down. “Had to let him go. Should be painless though,” she whispered.

 

Emma reached out and took Mary Margaret’s hand. She had never been good at comforting people, but she knew Mary Margaret well enough to know what her friend needed. “You can’t save them all,” she replied, giving her a sad smile. 

 

“I just hate when it’s kids.”

 

Emma took in the oncology wing, full of children who hadn’t been given enough time. “I know, maybe…”

 

But Emma’s words were cut off as the room took on a distinctly colder feeling, as though someone had turned the thermostat down several degrees. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough to get Emma’s adrenaline going. Emma watched as Mary Margaret shifted into defense mode. They knew what was coming. 

 

Sure enough, not a moment later the doors to the wing burst open, and in sauntered a demon. He was young, not only did he physically look like he was in his mid-twenties, but he clearly hadn’t died all that long ago. The demon had wide-eyes that took in every single aspect of the room and a brunette buzzcut. He looked like someone had pumped a shit load of caffeine directly into his veins. His eyes fell on the two women instantaneously, and he smirked widely as he took in their tense stances.

 

“Hello, ladies,” the demon purred as he sidled up next to them. 

 

Emma watched Mary Margaret step backwards reflexively. Her friend was much older, her instincts were more ingrained within her. She was also a much better angel than Emma. Mary Margaret was good through and through, which meant she tried to avoid fights as best she could unless she was protecting something . Emma was younger, and had far darker tendencies, which is why she walked right up to the man so that their noses were practically touching. “You can’t be here. Hospitals are off limits to your kind,” Emma growled. 

 

“Quite feisty, aren’t you little one?” the wiry man asked in a thick British accent. Emma rolled her eyes at the “little” quip, they were practically the same height. “Ya think I’m scared of a bird?”

 

“Bird” was a slang term for angel. It was the demons attempt to strip all the majesty and grace of their godly counterparts and turn them into something that they saw as fragile and earthly.

 

They’d clearly never met a Swan before. 

 

“You may not be frightened of me yet, but I can promise you that you will be if you push me too far. Besides, I’m not the only one who’ll dole out a punishment. Your kind doesn’t have many rules, but not being in hospitals is one of them, so if you aren’t afraid of me, perhaps you’ll be afraid of the High Council,” Emma spat. She was bluffing of course, demons had only one rule, and that was don’t expose your kind, but she was betting that the arrogant, naive prick in front of her didn’t know that. She knew she could kick his ass to next Sunday, but she could feel the tension radiating off of Mary Margaret and thought it was best not to engage in a fight in front of the children. 

 

The man’s eyes widened in uncertainty and the smile dropped from his face for a fraction of a second as he weighed her words. Then, all too quickly, the smug expression was back and he was leering down at her. “Alright, milady, you win this round,” he quipped as he raised his arms in mock surrender and backed towards the door. “I’m sure you and I will be seeing each other again real soon,” he said before he made a grand show of bowing to her, turning on his heel, and strutting out the door. 

 

Emma waited until the chill in her bones subsided. She waited until the air stopped humming with electricity. She waited until her muscles relaxed and the blood stopped pulsing through her veins. She waited until she was certain she wouldn’t need to pull out her wings and go full kamikaze on that cocky son of a bitch’s ass. Then she spoke. “You alright?” she asked her friend, who was clearly coming down off her adrenaline rush as well. 

 

“I’m fine,” Mary Margaret sighed as she began to take stock of the children. Kids were always much more perceptive when it came to divine occurrences. They hadn’t been taught to tell themselves that angels and demons were pretend, and that anything that suggested otherwise was a trick of the mind. Adults shut their eyes, children did not.

 

Luckily, none of them seemed too fazed. “That was bizarre,” Emma muttered, turning back to the doors where the demon had come in. Maybe they could give her answers. He hadn’t looked like he came in to instigate a fight. Hospitals may not actually be off-limits to demons, but that didn’t mean they were easy for them to get into. Something in their basic biology kept them from getting too close to institutions like hospitals and churches. They were supposed to be safe havens from whatever went bump in the night. So why go through all the trouble of getting in here, only to walk away?

 

“You think he was working alone, or on behalf of someone else?” Mary Margaret asked, startling Emma out of her thoughts. 

 

Demons were, ironically, much more social than angels. Their society was incredibly hierarchal. It was all about showing you were dominant, and the best way to do that was to control younger, or less powerful demons. Angels, on the other hand, typically worked alone. Mary Margaret and Emma were actually an anomaly in that sense. “He was definitely a grunt, he probably works for one of the lesser known Fallen given how brazen he’s being,” Emma replied, but her mind was spinning towards new possibilities. 

 

And dammit if her friend didn’t know her. “Emma? What’s wrong?” Mary Margaret stepped closer to the blonde, her voice lowering so no one could overhear. 

 

Emma took in her friend’s facial expression, her protective stance, and couldn’t help but smile. If you’d ask a younger Emma, an Emma who had been bouncing around from family to family, if she’d ever have someone who cared for her this much, she would’ve denied it. Mary Margaret would die for her, no questions asked. So, Emma decided not to worry her friend with a hunch. “It’s nothing, really. Just something that I think could help me with the case I’m working on. I’m going to swing by the station quickly.”

 

Mary Margaret’s face told her she wasn’t buying it. “Do you want me to come with you?” she asked hesitantly. Mary Margaret knew better than to question Emma, but she also worried about her the way a mother worried about her child. 

 

“Finish up here,” Emma told her, knowing that Mary Margaret wouldn’t leave the children. Emma leaned over and kissed her friend’s cheek lightly. “Dinner at your place tonight?”

 

Her peace offering had the desired effect. Mary Margaret beamed at the prospect of having Emma and, more importantly, Henry over. “Sounds good, I’ll see you tonight then.”

 

Emma waved goodbye and walked out the hospital doors, her body instantly tensing at the idea of what she was going to do. Mary Margaret would be horrified that she was the one who planted this idea in Emma’s head, but it was the only solid lead Emma had. Demons operated in packs (the idea of cults had to come from somewhere), and if anyone could identify the bodies, it would be a demon. 

 

To catch a killer, she’d need a monster. 

 

**OOO**

 

Emma pulled up to the ridiculously grandiose white mansion in the center of Boston and fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was completely and totally over the top.The bright green grass and perfectly manicured hedges were one thing, but the massive fountain in the middle of the circular driveway was a whole other ball game. Not to mention the fact that in the center of the fountain there was a marble statue of an angel. It had a neutral expression on its face and had one hand outstretched as if to bless someone. It would’ve been ironic on its own, but the real kicker was that it was impaled upon a massive sword. 

 

Regina had always been as subtle as a slap in the face. 

 

Regina Mills was the most powerful demon in all of Boston, and, arguably, the entire Cape. She was old too. No one knew exactly  _ how  _ old, but rumor had it she had purchased this house from Benjamin Franklin. 

 

The rumor was whether she purchased it or he gave it to her. 

 

Most angels wouldn’t visit this place if you offered them a million dollars. Regina had a knack for wielding dark magic and had a reputation of being cold, calculating, and utterly ruthless. Emma had never paid much attention to reputations. Besides, she and Regina were on relatively neutral terms because of Henry.

 

Henry had been 9 when he said he desperately wanted to trick-or-treat at the big, white house in the center of town. Emma had shut him down, hard. Her son hadn’t liked that very much. So, two weeks after Halloween he took a city bus to Regina’s house after school and knocked on her door with a shopping bag and a sheet over his head. 

 

Regina had been unamused. 

 

Emma had been furious. 

 

Still, the visit had piqued Henry’s curiosity, and so he made frequent visits to Regina’s when his mom looked the other way. Somewhere along the line, Henry went from being a nuisance, to something that was ignored, to company Regina really enjoyed. When Henry had found out what Emma was, he’d also learned of Regina’s nature. The demon had initially been nervous Emma’s son wouldn’t take it well, but, if anything, it just made Henry more fascinated with the woman. So the two of them would have a meal together about once a month, and Regina and her posse left Emma alone so long as Emma “didn’t get in her way”. Emma had never actually visited Regina’s home, and she wondered if Regina would refrain from killing her when she found out Emma’s favor. She doubted it.

 

Emma picked up the heavy, ornate knocker (it was a snake head, would the irony ever cease?), and let it drop unceremoniously against the door. Dramatic flair had never been her forte. She doubted she would’ve been able to knock twice anyways, because the door flew open the moment the snake head touched it. In front of her stood a middle-aged black man who was regarding her like she was a dead possum on his doorstep.

 

“Sidney Glass. What do you want?” 

 

Emma went ahead and assumed his name was Sidney Glass, because otherwise that made no sense. “Um, I’m Emma Swan-“

 

“I know who you are,” Sidney interrupted. “I know everything. You didn’t answer my question. What do you want?” He clearly was not in a chatting mood. 

 

Emma let out a huff. “Is Regina here?”

 

Sidney looked her up and down slowly, and made no show to hide his obvious disdain. “And what, pray tell, would Her Majesty want with you?”

 

Emma let out a humorless laugh. “You call her, Your Majesty?” she asked dryly. 

 

Sidney’s eyes narrowed into beady little slits. “We’re done here,” he dismissed as he began to close the door. 

 

Emma slammed her hand up against the door and shoved back, allowing a little extra magic to pulse down her arm so Sidney couldn’t stop her. The man stumbled backwards as she charged forward into the house, clearly unprepared for her to fight back. “You’re right,” Emma replied as she took stock of the black and white tiled foyer and marble staircase. She turned back to the little demon in front of her “we’re done here.” 

 

Emma followed the cold feeling down the hallway, Sidney yelling at her as she began opening doors trying to find the Queen Bee herself. She knew Sidney wouldn’t hurt her; Emma had always had a powerful brand of light magic, and she could tell Sidney was all bark, no bite when it came to his own. Angels had the power of assessment. They could get a feel for how strong their enemies were before they charged into battle with them. Sidney wasn’t bringing much to the table. 

 

As Emma continued down the hallway, she could tell Regina really appreciated her black and white. The tiled floors shifted into black hardwood as she continued through the house. She could tell she was getting closer the lower the temperature dropped. Emma swallowed the bile in her throat and forced her wings to stay tucked away as she moved deeper and deeper. Finally, she reached a set of french doors, and, judging by the way Sidney’s yelling grew louder, she sensed she finally found her target. 

 

“Regina!” Emma yelled as she bursted into the room. She wasn’t prepared for the two other demons in the room. Clearly, she’d walked into some sort of business meeting, because they all stood huddled around a glass desk. Naturally, the two moved to protect Regina, hissing and snarling the whole way. Emma held her hands up, both as a way of telling them she meant no trouble, but also warning them trouble was exactly what she would cause if they didn’t back off. “We need to talk.” 

 

The older woman pursed her blood red lips and smoothed her hands over her immaculate black dress. “Miss Swan, what an absolute displeasure. How the hell did you get in here?” Regina asked, casting a withering look towards Sidney.

 

Sidney shrank under her gaze. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer, she practically threw me against a wall.”

 

Emma shot him a look and rolled her eyes. “That’s an exaggeration if I’ve ever heard one. I just need to talk to you.” Emma looked pointedly at the two demons in front of her, “Privately.”

 

Maybe it was something in her tone of voice, but Regina nodded and waved her hands to dismiss the two demons. The gave her an “are you crazy” look, but didn’t disobey. They’d never disobey. As soon as the door shut behind them Regina turned to Emma with what almost appeared to be genuine fear. “Is this about Henry?” Regina asked, voice taking on a worried tone.

 

“What? No,” Emma replied. “Henry’s fine, this is about something going on in our world. Someone, or something, is killing angels and demons,” she explained.

 

Regina sighed dramatically and took a seat at her desk. “And this concerns me, how?” She pulled out her laptop and began clicking away at it. 

 

Emma had figured she would be difficult, but she never imagined she would be  _ dismissive.  _ She quickly took out her phone and pulled up the photos she’d taken. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” Emma spat as she slammed the laptop closed, nearly taking Regina’s fingers off. She shoved the phone in the Demon Queen’s face, “Someone is murdering angels and demons. In brutal, vicious, painful ways like some kind of sociopath.  _ This  _ concerns you.” 

 

Regina gave Emma a look that suggested she could not be more bored if you made her watch paint dry, but she picked up the phone. Her eyes grew just a touch wider as she scrolled through the photos, and by the end Emma could see just a hint of worry on her face. “So what do you want me to do?” Regina asked. “Punish the person who did this?” 

 

Emma sighed and took her phone back. “We don’t know who did this,” she admitted. 

 

Regina laughed and leaned back into her chair. “Of course you don’t. You and the J. Crew model couldn’t catch a killer if I murdered someone right in front of you.”

 

Emma half expected Regina to kill someone just to prove her point. Then a thought struck her. “J. Crew model? You mean my brother?” Fear sat thick in Emma’s throat. Regina couldn’t know about David.

 

As if she read her mind, Regina gave her a twisted grin. “Oh, Miss Swan, I know everything.” Regina paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, before she let out a little huff. “Now if there’s nothing I can do, I suggest you go, before I let one of my employees rip those pretty little wings right off.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes at the empty threat. Regina would never hurt her so long as doing so would hurt Henry. “I didn’t say there wasn’t anything you could do. I need you to see if you can ID the demon for me, and maybe see if anyone in your circles can ID her as well.”

 

If looks could kill, Emma would be dead by now. “What is it you think I do all day, Miss Swan? Sit around and wait for you to come in and recruit me to solve a case like this is  _ True Detective _ ?”

 

Emma handed her the phone back. “Just look,” she sighed. This was feeling more and more like a fool’s errand. 

 

To her credit, Regina took the phone. She studied the photo for what felt like forever, and just as Emma was about to give up, Regina slammed her hand down on the table. “Shit,” she breathed.

 

“What, what, what? Do you know who it is?”

 

“No,” Regina began and Emma was about to ask her what the commotion was for when the older woman held up a hand to silence her. She double tapped Emma’s screen and turned the phone so the angel could see it. Regina had zoomed in on the woman’s wrist where a tiny, black tattoo had been inked. “Do you know what that is?” Regina asked.

 

Emma studied the image. “Um, a weird looking, upside down J?”

 

Regina looked at Emma like she was the dumbest person she’d ever encountered in her centuries of being alive. “Boston PD clearly doesn’t have its finest working on this case,” Regina spat. Then, “it’s a hook.” Regina spun in her chair so she was facing her phone and began aggressively punching numbers. 

 

Emma studied the image for bit, she could see the hook now, but was still confused. “I don’t get it,” Emma admitted as she pocketed her cell. 

 

Regina held up a perfectly manicured finger as the phone rang. Emma heard a voice on the other end of the receiver and then Regina began speaking. “Put him on the line,” she hissed. Emma could tell the other person was speaking, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Angels and demons had heightened senses, which meant Regina had her phone volume ridiculously low if Emma couldn’t make it out with magical hearing. Then again, being Queen Demon meant that Regina probably had a lot to hide from those in the divine community. “Listen to me you little imp,” the queen spat. “If you do not put him on the phone  _ right now,  _ I’ll show you what hell really looks like!” she screamed, and Emma flinched instinctively at the volume of her voice. “Don’t you dare hang up on me, Smee!” He clearly didn’t listen, because she suddenly picked up her phone and threw it against the wall with such force that it shattered. 

 

The two demons from earlier rushed in at the noise and quickly turned on Emma as though she were the source of all the distress. 

 

“Get out!” Regina roared and Emma had never seen two people move as quickly as those two did. 

 

Emma was beginning to understand the reputation Regina had made for herself. She watched as the demon pressed two fingers on her temples and attempted to calm down. Emma took the quiet moment to get her own instincts under control. She was digging her nails in her palm in an attempt to keep herself grounded and out of an ethereal state. When she was around demons, or when a situation got out of hand, she often couldn’t control what her body did. She prayed this wasn’t one of those times. 

 

Luckily, Regina seemed to get it together. “I’m calm, I’m calm,” she muttered to herself as she grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from her desk and began to write something down.

 

“Do you know who the demon is?” Emma asked.

 

Regina folded her paper and looked up. “No,” she replied. She pushed a button on a small intercom on her desk and Emma heard Sidney ask what she needed. “Send in Will Scarlet,” Regina demanded and removed her finger before Sidney could reply.

 

“What was all that then?” Emma asked as Regina yanked open her laptop and began typing furiously on it. 

 

She didn’t look up. “I know someone who does; the man who was her keeper. You’re going to New York,” Regina said as she closed her laptop.

 

Emma leaned over her desk and got up in Regina’s face. She’d reached her limit. “Regina, I can’t go to New York. I have a job and a kid and I can’t just… leave.”

 

“Your job is to catch the person who did this. That now involves going to New York, and I’m sure the J.Crew model and his back-to-nature angel of a girlfriend love children,” Regina laughed without humor. 

 

Emma was going to protest, tell her no way in hell could she go to New York. Not until she got a proper explanation at the very least, but she didn’t get the chance because someone walked through the door. 

 

“Ah, Will. Meet Emma Swan,” Regina smiled.

 

Emma turned to see no one other than the wiry demon from the hospital. He gave her a wide, blinding grin when he saw her and proceeded to bow, again, in front of her. “You,” Emma growled.

 

Will straightened up and sauntered over to her, clapping a hand on her shoulder which Emma quickly shrugged off. “Told ya we’d be seein’ each other, angel. Though I must admit I didn’t expect it to be so soon. Guess God is smilin’ down at me, aye?” 

 

Emma suppressed the urge to punch him in the face. “My lucky day,” Emma spat, before she turned to Regina. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to New York, and I’m especially not going to New York with  _ him _ .”

 

Regina had clearly had enough of the conversation and was staring at them as though they were bickering children. “Yes, you are going to New York, and yes you are going with Will. He’ll help you get in, and then the rest is up to you, Miss Swan. You were right, there’s something larger at work here, and we’re going to have to,” Regina swallowed melodramatically as if it were difficult to say. “Work together if we want to find who’s doing this. Now, this piece of paper has the hotel he’s staying at,” Regina offered the slip to Emma, but she kept her arms crossed over her chest and stared at the ceiling. The Queen rolled her eyes and gave the paper to Will. “I’ll send you instructions. Be careful, he’s dangerous, and,” Regina widened her eyes like she was already exhausted, “greatly unhinged.”

 

Emma stood there, stewing, until she decided Regina was right. She was loathe to admit it, but Regina was right. Emma threw her arms up in exasperation, “Fine, dammit! But if I have to go on a wild goose chase, can I at least get the guy’s name?”

 

Regina gave her a wicked grin and Emma realized she had no idea how big of a storm was coming her way. 

 

“Killian Jones.”

 


	3. Devil's Advocate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go follow my beta, Mona, on Tumblr because she's amazing and the only reason this story is here (o-u-a-timer.tumblr.com)

 

**_“The opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.”  - Elie Wiesel_ **

 

New York City.

 

The city that never sleeps.

 

The Empire State.

 

Concrete jungle where dreams are made of.

 

You get the picture.

 

Throughout her afterlife, Emma had always done her best to avoid Manhattan. For such a tiny island, the city was a breeding ground for all types of riff-raff. She wasn’t sure if it was the pace, or the people, but demons flocked to New York from all across the world. All that dark energy put Emma incredibly on edge. 

 

Will Scarlet threatened to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

 

He had seemingly made it his life’s mission to grate on every last nerve she had. It had started on the train ride up, when he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder fifteen minutes after they’d pulled away from Boston. She’d pushed him off several times, but he always seemed to work his way back over to her.  Then, when he’d finally awoken from his slumber, he had insisted upon playing an idiotic game he had made up; “Sinner or Saved.” It consisted of Will picking out other passengers who he thought he could corrupt, and Emma then deciding if she could save them or not. Emma, of course, had refused to play, so it was mostly Will talking to himself. 

 

“Come on then, Angel. You always such a downer?” he’d asked after his fifth round with himself. 

 

Emma had debated simply not giving him a response, but had cracked when he’d given her a goading smirk. “I don’t think making snap judgements about humans, deciding their fate without knowing them, is fun. Maybe that makes me a downer, but then I never really cared much for the opinion of a demon,” she’d growled. 

 

Will had quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t mean to upset you, darlin’. I’m just tryin’ to bond with ya, seein’ as how the two of us are goin’ to be spendin’ a lot a time together.”

 

“Like hell,” Emma had ignored the slight sting when she’d said the word. “Under no circumstances are you and I going to be spending a lot of time together. We’re going to go get this Killian Jones guy, and then we’re getting back to Boston and never seeing each other again.” Another thought had quickly crept into the back of her mind. She had leaned a little bit closer, invading his personal space just enough to make him uncomfortable. She’d narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “While we’re chatting though, do you want to tell me what you were doing at the hospital that day?” she’d asked. Her tone had been light, but she’d made sure that the threat was still there. She’d asked a question, and they both knew there was no way she wasn’t getting an answer. Will’s face had darkened, which had prompted Emma to push on. “Did you know I was there? Did Regina send you?”

 

Will had studied her for a long time, so long that Emma had begun to grow worried. The adrenaline had begun rushing through her veins, and she had nearly gone into an ethereal state, before he had finally spoken. “I wasn’t there for ya. Had no clue you were even in the buildin’ until I was on me way out.”

 

“And you just decided to pop by?”

 

Will had shrugged. “Call it the demon in me, but I wanted to see if I could cause a stir. Didn’t  really mean no harm.”

 

And for some reason, Emma had believed him. That still left one question, though. “So, why were you there in the first place?”

 

Will had paused and seemed to make a decision, a small smile working its way back onto his face. “You been asking me a lot of questions. Tell ya what, I answer this, and I get to ask you one question. Can be any question I want, and you have to answer it truthfully.” He had extended his hand. “Deal?”

 

Emma had known she was walking a fine line. Demons were not bound by their word, but when angels struck up a deal, they had to follow through. Didn’t matter how long it took, they couldn’t back out. She wasn’t sure what the punishment was, but some long buried survival instinct told her it would be bad. In spite of all this, she’d taken Will’s hand. “Deal.”

 

The demon had smirked, then, “I was visiting me sister.”

 

“Your sister? You have living family?” Emma had asked.

 

“Don’t sound surprised, Angel. You have a son,” Will must’ve seen something flicker in her eyes at the mention of her son, because he’d added, “Regina told me. No need to worry about me, I’m all bark no bite.” 

 

Emma had smiled in spite of herself. “How old is she?”

 

“Just turned twenty,” Will had answered, his face falling.

 

If his sister was only twenty, Will must not have been that old. How long ago had he died, and, more importantly, why had he taken the dark path? “Why is your sister in the hospital?”

 

Will had flinched. “That is a tale for another day.”

 

Emma had accepted his answer. “Right. Well what’s your question then?”

 

He’d acted like he was mulling it over; waiting an agonizingly long time before he said; “I think I’ll save it.” Will had said it in a way that was clearly meant to goad her; he had been issuing a challenge. He’d given her a toothy grin as he leaned back in his seat, clearly very satisfied with himself. 

 

Emma had started, unprepared for that. “What? That wasn’t part of the deal.” She’d felt her defenses going back up as she remembered what she was dealing with.

He had seemingly read her mind, because he’d leaned in so their faces were nearly touching, enjoying Emma’s obvious discomfort. “Don’t ya know, Bird,” he’d whispered. “Never make a deal with a demon.”

 

**OOO**

 

“Emma!” Will called, voice breaking her out of her reverie. 

 

Maybe it was because she was a mother, but she could already tell he was going to complain. “What,” she snapped as she weaved between bodies on 9th Avenue. 

 

Will didn’t disappoint. “How much farther? My feet hurt. Why didn’t we take a cab?”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. She had made him walk the thirty blocks from Penn Station to the hotel Killian Jones was at. The main reason was that she didn’t feel like sharing another confined space with Scarlet. The other, more selfish, reason, was that she really wanted to torture him, and he didn’t seem like the walking type. She was right. He wasn’t. “We’re only a couple blocks away, Will. You’ll make it,” Emma called over her shoulder. Sure enough, she could see the all glass skyscraper, the Time Warner Center, which housed the hotel they were heading to; the Mandarin Oriental, looming overhead. It had begun raining as soon as they’d arrived in New York, and the building gave off a foreboding vibe against the grey sky. 

 

Will huffed behind her. “Yeah, but I haven’t fed in days.”

 

A demon’s feeding consisted of sucking the life out of a human, or rather, taking a piece of their soul. Demons typically surrounded themselves with human lackeys who allowed The Fallen to feed on them at their leisure. They were known as animae in the supernatural community, which roughly translated to “souls” in Latin. Every time a demon took a soul, every time they sucked away a memory, or a personality trait, a human became less… human. After a few years, there was nothing left for a demon to feed on, so the animae were typically discarded. Emma had seen a couple of anima who had reached the end of their usefulness at Regina’s place. Their bodies looked as though a strong breeze would blow them away, and their faces held no signs of life. They looked like the worst kind of drug addicts. 

 

As an angel, Emma could detect the various degrees of light and dark within creatures. Angels were basically big beacons of light. Some, like Mary Margaret, shone brighter than others. Demons, on the other hand, were walking balls of dark energy, which is what made Emma and other angels avoid them, and vice versa. Humans could hold varying degrees of light and dark, and where angels and demons were relatively fixed in their levels (except, of course, when an angel made the transition to the dark, but that was a whole other can of worms), humans could be swayed one way or another. That’s where the war between demons and angels stemmed from; both were constantly fighting to drag humans to their respective sides. It was an ageless war, but one that had to be fought. 

 

That’s what was most depressing about the animae. They had nothing. They weren’t good, they weren’t bad, they didn’t hold any light or dark energy. Everything was just blank. It repelled Emma in ways that even demons did not. They were mindless drones; the life had literally been sucked out of them. The icing on the cake was that demons had the option to feed on those who were dying. People who were already on their way to a better place, and wouldn’t be affected. Most chose not to though, because apparently the more lively the soul, the more potent the feed, and they’d never take into consideration the lives they were altering.

 

Maybe that’s why Emma’s blood boiled at Will’s comment. Maybe she was just at her limit, but she quickly whipped around and jabbed an angry finger into his chest. “Pardon me if I don’t have much sympathy for your plight. Complain again and I can promise you, you’ll regret it.” As if to prove her point, thunder boomed overhead, and the rain seemed to come down a little bit harder. 

 

Will seemed surprised at her outburst. For all their back and forth, he’d never seen Emma genuinely angry. He gave her a sharp nod. “Understood, Angel,” he said, before skirting around her and heading towards the hotel.

 

Emma almost felt bad. It wasn’t his fault that she was so on edge. She vowed to at least attempt to be civil with him the rest of their trip. They were on the same side, after all, despite their… differences. Emma sighed. “Will,” she called as she jogged after him.

 

The young demon turned around; he’d reached the entrance of the hotel. He was wearing a smile, and Emma was grateful nothing seemed to phase him. “This is it. Can you feel it?”

 

Sure enough, as soon as she landed beside him, Emma felt her stomach drop to her feet. She could taste bile rising in her throat, and the hair on the back of her neck raised. She could feel the two familiar points of pressure on her shoulder blades where her wings were instinctively pushing to come out. Whatever was waiting for them on the inside was going to be bad. “Let’s do this,” Emma sighed. 

 

Will looked over at her. He appeared to be thriving off the energy that was making Emma uneasy. His face fell ever so slightly as he noticed her obvious discomfort. “Nothing’s going to happen to ya, Emma. We’re just ‘ere for a chat,” he reassured.

 

Emma gave him a nod. “I just want to get it over with,” she replied as she went to go inside.

 

“And we will,” he said before he tugged her backwards by her arm. Emma gave him a questioning glare. “But first, you need to change. They’re not going to let you past the first checkpoint dressed like that.”

 

Emma scoffed. “My clothes are just fine.”

 

“No they aren’t. Jones has demons everywhere; you won’t get past the lobby. We need to… distract them from the fact that you’re an angel. Once you get up to Smee, his right hand, that’s when the real work begins,“ Will explained.

 

Emma rolled her eyes; she knew exactly how Will planned on  _ distracting  _ them. “And where do you suggest we find me new clothes?”

 

Will smiled and began to pull her further down the street. “It’s New York City, Birdy. I’m sure we’ll find something.”

 

**OOO**

 

American Apparel is what they found. 

 

She was currently decked out in some skintight, latex red dress with black, stripper heels to match. The ensemble would’ve been bad enough had it actually fit her properly, but Will had insisted she wear something that was two sizes too small. So, now her boobs were pushed up to her chin, she was one step away from a nip slip, nothing was left to the imagination, and she couldn’t  _ move.  _

 

She was going to murder him. 

 

He’d been right though, she looked like a prostitute, but the outfit had done the trick. She’d shuffled into the Time Warner Center’s ground floor, and all the demons on post had lost the ability to speak, let alone put up a fight. Typical, that he’d only have men working. Never send a man to do a woman’s job. 

 

“Nice work, Angel,” Will praised with an unabashedly amused grin as they rode the elevator up to the top floor where Jones was staying. 

 

Emma resisted the urge to punch him. “Normally, I’d yell at you, but I’m losing oxygen to the brain, so I’m going to refrain.”

 

“Lucky me,” Will laughed before his expression turned somber. “As soon as the doors open, we’re going to be in the thick of it. The boys downstairs were amateurs, the people up here are going to be the real deal. I’m going to try and track down Smee immediately, but it’s possible we may be stopped before then. Just play dumb and let me do the talking,” the demon explained as he gripped Emma’s forearm tightly. They’d agreed that it would be best if he manhandled her to give the appearance that she was weak. “And Emma,” Will said, mouth setting in a grim line. She wasn’t used to seeing him so serious. “You  _ cannot  _ go into an ethereal state. No matter what happens, they can’t think you’re a threat. If they do, it doesn’t matter how well-connected you are, it doesn’t matter if you’re Regina’s favorite person, they will kill you. He will kill you.”

 

She didn’t have time to respond, she didn’t even have time to process his words because suddenly the elevator doors were opening. 

He hadn’t been lying. Whereas the demons downstairs had looked like teenage band groupies, the two men standing in front of her looked like Marines. They instantly stiffened when the two of them came off the elevator, eyes skipping right past Will and landing on her. 

 

She didn’t know what she’d expected. That they’d simply not realize what she was? Any hope of that was gone as soon as their harsh gazes met her own. They hated her on sight; it was their nature. Maybe it was because she’d been spending time with Will, who was so unfazed by it all, that she’d forgotten the most basic instinct the divine community possessed.

 

Hate what you’re not. 

 

Luckily, Scarlet seemed like he'd been prepared for their reaction. He sauntered right up to them with an irritating amount of confidence. Emma did her best to look confused and stumble along, as though she had no idea what she was doing there. 

 

“Looking for Smee,” he said as though it was the most natural explanation in the world as to why an angel would be here. 

 

One of the guards, the beefier of the two (his neck appeared to be the same width as his shoulders), eyed them skeptically. “What business do you have with him?”

 

Will’s grip on Emma’s arm tightened. “That’s classified information. If you could just point me in his direction, I’d be very appreciative.”

 

Emma watched as the two demons exchanged a glance, and then they began to slowly advance forward. “Unless you can tell me _ exactly  _ why you’re looking for Mr. Smee, I suggest you leave. We don’t take well to Birds,” the meat-headed demon spat. The message was clear, they were not welcome, and they’d be removed by force if necessary. 

 

Emma was beginning to grow agitated and instinct was kicking in. She knew he could feel her tension, and she assumed he’d get them out of there. To her surprise, Will did not back down. “Listen up, gents. This concerns three people. Me, Mr. Smee, and  _ Hook, _ ” Will hissed the last name as though it were a curse. Emma had been unaware that that was what he was referred to in his own circle, but it explained the murder victim’s tattoo. Regina must’ve given Will that piece of information. Will quickly continued, “So if you want to go in there and tell The Boss why you’re holding me up, go right ahead. Although, I think we all know how that’s going to go for the two of you.”

 

Emma had yet to see Will’s “dark side”. Maybe it was because he was young, maybe it was because he was just better at hiding it than others, but Will Scarlet still had a little light left in him. 

 

But here, in the hallway of a hotel in New York City, Emma couldn’t see any light in him. He was all darkness, and he had enough in him to rival the men in front of her. If she was confused as to how someone as seemingly carefree as Will was a demon, she wasn’t anymore.

 

This was also the first time she would understand just how much power Hook held over those who knew him. As soon as Will merely mentioned his name, the other two demons grew nervous. When they finally pointed them in the direction of Smee, Room 2660, she was amazed that the men were more afraid to question Hook and be wrong, than let an angel walk around freely. 

 

As soon as they were out of sight, Will let out an audible sigh of relief. “Nice work,” Emma muttered, still tense from their encounter.

 

The demon was clearly feeling the same. “We’re not in the clear yet,” he whispered as he shoved Smee’s door in. 

 

He was sitting at a large, ornate wooden desk. In fact, the desk was the only thing in the sizable hotel room. Papers were scattered all over the surface and the man in question sat hunched over, studying them intently. Emma and Will stood there for an unusually long time before Smee finally glanced up at them. His jaw quickly went slack as he took in two figures in front of him, and for a while, the only expression on his face was surprise. Emma knew how he felt.

 

William Smee was not what she’d been expecting. 

 

He was a small, portly man with soft features. He had an old, grimy red beanie pulled over his head, and his beard appeared to have a few crumbs in it (what he had been eating, she could not imagine, since demons didn’t need to eat…). He looked like a younger, shorter Santa Claus. 

 

All that would’ve been good and well, demons came in all shapes and sizes, but there was something about this man that was decidedly non-threatening. Which was surprising, given his ranking in Hook’s inner-circle. Clearly, Jones had a considerable amount of faith in Smee’s ability to take care of business, so maybe Emma was missing something.

 

There was something vaguely rat-like about the man gaping at her. 

 

“Wha? What are you? Who are you?” Smee stuttered as he waved a pudgy finger between the two of them.

 

Will laughed. “Eloquent as ever, Smee.” He dropped Emma’s arm and made his way over to Smee, clearly enjoying how flummoxed the other demon was. 

 

That piqued Emma’s curiosity long enough to quell her anxiousness. “Do you two know each other?” she asked as Will perched himself on the edge of the desk. Maybe it was the fact that Smee was just not an intimidating person, but she was beginning to feel a bit more in her element. She leaned against the door and crossed her arms over her chest, a silent warning that no one was leaving until she had what she needed. 

 

“Smee and I know each other informally, so to speak. We’ve shared the occasional late night phone call when our bosses needed to coordinate, but this is the first time we’ve met in person,” Will explained, the smile never leaving his face as Smee’s face looked more and more confused. 

 

That caught his attention. Smee slammed both hands onto the desk and stood up. Emma could tell that, if she was standing next to him, he’d barely clear her shoulders. “Who are you?” Smee repeated.

 

Will extended a hand, ignoring the other demon’s obvious irritation. “Will Scarlet,” Smee’s eyes widened in recognition before Will gestured to Emma. “That angel over there is Emma Swan, she’s with Boston PD. We’re here to see Hook.”

 

If Smee had been confused before, he certainly wasn’t now. In fact, his face had the same sour expression everyone else’s did when Regina was brought up. “Ms. Mills sent you,” Smee sighed as he sat back down at his desk. 

 

Will nodded. “You lot weren’t being very accommodating, so we decided to pay you a visit. Now you know how Regina can be when she doesn’t get her way, so I suggest you take us to see Hook.”

 

Smee gave the pair a sneer. “You can tell Regina that Hook says to shove it; he could care less what she wants.” Smee smirked when Will’s face fell. He had clearly anticipated Regina’s name having some sort of weight. “I’m going to advise the two of you to leave, before I get someone to throw you out.”

 

Emma watched as Will turned to her wearing a defeated expression, and she knew he said to let him do the talking. She knew he told her not to get involved. She knew she was in way over her head. 

 

She knew all that.

 

So she couldn’t explain why her feet carried her over to Smee’s desk. She couldn’t explain why she leaned over, stopping only when she could smell the scent of death on his breath. She couldn’t explain why she said, “Take us to Hook,” in a soft whisper, voice sickly sweet. 

 

She  _ really  _ couldn’t explain why he silently leapt up and did just that. 

 

**OOO**

 

Divine beings had considerable influence over human action. They could get them to do their bidding with a wave of their hand. It was only when a human possessed abundant amounts of free will, when they were completely dead-set in their ways, that things became a little dicier. Angels typically only used this ability in dire circumstances, demons, per their nature, utilized the power more frequently. Their was only one rule, or, rather, one limitation, to the ability. It didn’t work on other members of the community. 

 

At least, that’s what Emma told herself as she followed a dazed Smee down the hotel hallway. When she’d spoken to him, when she’d told him what to do, she had felt the familiar push-pull that came with using the power of influence. Smee had certainly acted as though he were in the trance. But that was impossible. 

 

So when Will grabbed her arm and whispered “What did you do?” in her ear as they walked, she simply shrugged. 

 

“Maybe it was my boobs,” she replied with a smirk. 

 

“I doubt it, but good show,” Will laughed quietly, elbowing her in the ribs. 

 

Smee led them to the end of the hallway, and wordlessly pulled out a key card when they reached a door marked “Presidential Suite”. He held open the door and gestured for them to enter, following right behind them, before slamming the door shut. 

 

Twelve pairs of eyes landed directly on her. 

 

All the demons in the room appeared to be in varying states of intoxication. They were in a sitting room that, she assumed, connected to the Master Bedroom. Bodies were sprawled out over ornate looking furniture, and in a chair to her right was a very famous aging rock-star. A wooden table sat at the back of the room between two french doors that was covered in top-shelf liquor. The oriental rug beneath their feet had probably been beautiful at one point, but was now stained with alcohol, blood, and God only knows what else. It didn’t go unnoticed that 80% of the people in the room were women. Women who were dressed in ways that put her own ensemble to shame. 

 

The lion’s den was, more or less, a brothel. 

 

She scanned the faces of the few men in the room, trying to figure out which one was him. Hook. They all seemed too old, or too young, or too not what she was picturing. Granted, Smee had surprised her, but none of them seemed right. None of them seemed - 

 

“Well, would you look what the light dragged in,” a voice called. 

 

Emma whipped her head to the left, and Holy Mother of Leather there he was, standing in the doorway to the master bedroom. He was looking at her, only her, with a smirk that didn’t meet his kohl-rimmed, startlingly blue, eyes. Jet black hair had been swept slightly to the side, so that it didn’t hang in his eyes, and he had just the right amount of scruff. She wasn’t being melodramatic about the leather either; he was decked out in it, from his pants, to his jacket. Speaking of pants, his clung to his form so snugly, she wasn’t confident she’d be able to fit in them. They’d make quite the pair side by side, both in their skin-tight outfits. He was also wearing a black, button-down, which wasn’t doing much in terms of coverage, because he’d only done the bottom three buttons. It did give her a nice view of his chest, so she wasn’t complaining, per se. His left hand was covered in various gaudy rings, but that wasn’t the real show-stopper. No, what really set Emma on edge was his right hand. Or, should she say, right hook. His right arm ended in a glistening, silver hook, which is clearly where he’d gotten his name.  _ Clever.  _ Why he’d chosen that attachment was something she’d probably never find out, but she guessed it wasn’t a story she wanted to know. 

 

He was gorgeous. He was also incredibly dangerous.

 

Hook was the carnal manifestation of sin, she was sure of it. 

 

She knew demons were meant to be attractive, as to lure in humans, but he seemed excessively good-looking. It almost didn’t seem fair, and she couldn’t help but imagine how beautiful he’d been before he’d fallen, before bitterness and hate had touched him. But, Emma had never been one to let a pretty face veer her off her course of action, so she lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eyes. “Hook,” she nodded. 

 

The demon in question looked her up and down; sizing her up. Just then, a small blonde woman slinked out of the bedroom. She paused in the doorway and handed Hook a glass of rum. The female demon looked at him, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement, but Hook’s eyes never left Emma, so she quickly sulked off. “So,” Hook started in his soft British accent as he began to saunter over to Emma. She didn’t back down. “Do you want to tell me how you got in here?” Hook’s eyes darted over to Smee, who was seemingly coming out of his trance, because his face was growing more and more horrified. 

 

“I don’t know what came over me, Sir. I don’t know why I brought them. I don’t know what happened,” Smee stuttered.

 

Hook cut him off with a sneer and a wave of his hand. “Do you know anything, Smee?” Hook snapped. 

 

“No, Sir.” 

 

“That’s what I thought,” Hook sighed before turning his attention back to Emma. The smirk quickly graced his features again. “Now,” he started, and then suddenly he had her arm locked in a death-grip. He squeezed so hard, her bone would’ve easily snapped had she been human, and all the while, he was smiling at her. “What the hell do you want?” 

 

It was Will who spoke, words coming out in anxious bursts. “Regina Mills sent us. Sent her. She’s working on a case in Boston, a demon, angel, and human have all been killed. The demon belonged to you, she was a member of your circle, she had a tattoo; your tattoo.”

 

“Just look at the pictures,” Emma hissed through gritted teeth. “Look at the pictures and tell us what you know and we’ll leave.” Will had told her to keep herself in control because the alternative would cost them their lives, and dammit she was doing her best. But, if he kept gripping her like this, kept pushing her, she was going to lose it. 

 

Hook studied her for a moment longer, grip getting just a bit tighter before he finally let go. He laughed as he sauntered over to the table to refill his drink. “And why on Earth would I want to help Regina?” He looked Emma up and down again and added “Or you?” 

 

Emma couldn’t help but scoff. She heard Will clear his throat from behind her, but she ignored him. Hook hadn’t even looked at Scarlet since they’d arrived, he clearly wanted to go up against her. She was more than willing to accommodate. “This is one of your people and she’s dead. Don’t you want to find the person responsible? You could have some sort of connection to them. They may even be working their way through your crew. You really want to wait until another one of them turns up dead?”

 

Hook smiled and took a large swig from his glass. “Your problem, lass, is that you think I care. My people, as you so eloquently put it, can take care of themselves.” He then turned so that they were facing each other head on, as if he was about to challenge her. “And if they can’t, well then they  _ deserve  _ to die.” Suddenly, the smile he’d been wearing their entire conversation dropped off his face, and he looked at her with an expression of unbridled hatred. “Kill them both,” he commanded before he placed the glass against his lips, tipped his head back, and finished his drink as though nothing was happening. 

 

Despite the fact that the demons in the room had to be drunk out of their minds, they all leapt up as soon as he gave the order. Emma backed up, trying to get to the door, only to discover that at some point two demons had circled behind her to block it. Hook’s cronies began to pull out various weaponry, all designed and infused with the necessary items to kill divine creatures. She was going to die. She and Will were going to die.  _ Will… _

 

She looked over at the demon to her right and was taken aback by the look of pure terror on his face. He had placed himself in front of her as best he could, prepared to defend her from the onslaught that was coming. He was going to try and save her. He was petrified, but he was putting her first. No. He was too young for this. He had only just entered this world, he wasn’t going to die for her. Not when he had a sister in the hospital who needed him. Not when he had so much to live for. 

 

She knew Will Scarlet would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

 

It started off slowly. The lights got a little bit brighter, the room got a little bit hotter, and the rain came down a little bit heavier. Will was the only one who noticed, probably due to his proximity to Emma, and he shot her a questioning look over his shoulder. 

 

“Close your eyes,” Emma demanded as she stepped in front of the demon, and Will quickly obeyed. 

 

That’s when she let go. 

 

The lights surged so brightly they nearly burst, but angels were creatures of the light, so they held fast. Pops began to fill the room as the bottles of alcohol began to explode, and Emma had the satisfaction of watching Killian look back in surprise. The french doors opened so violently, she was sure they were going to rip off the hinges. Wind and rain tore through the room, whipping her hair around her face, but she still stared him down. 

 

And then there were her wings. 

 

The first few times she’d released her wings, it had been painful. Like something was ripping through her from the inside out. At some point, it had begun to feel good; a massive release in pressure. Keeping that part of her locked away all the time took its toll. Sometimes, that side needed to come out and play.

 

She had never been particularly vain; she had features she favored over others, and she knew she was pretty, but not quite a knock-out. Her wings though, were a sight to see. They nearly touched the ground and were snow white in color. Never in her life had she seen encountered anything as strong as angel wings. They could slice right through the steel, and yet were soft to the touch. They were, as paintings and stories had predicted, also feathered, which is where demons had gotten the whole “bird” thing from. 

 

Angel wings were something divine, otherworldly, and that’s exactly how she felt as she stood in a room of people she should have the sense to be afraid of. 

 

Hook’s crew had clearly gotten over their initial shock of seeing her go ethereal, and were staring at her with looks that ranged from disgust to jealousy. They began to advance again, and Emma could tell from the look Hook was giving her, that he didn’t expect her to last long. 

 

She shot him a smug smile as she swung her right arm out, sending all those on that side of her hurdling into the wall. Hook’s jaw slackened and his eyes widened as he reassessed her. Emma let out a pealing laugh and her left hand began to glow with light magic. She quickly swept her left arm out, more aggressively this time, and the demons on that side went flying back with so much force they actually went  _ through  _ the wall. That only left the two demons who had been blocking the door, and she could feel them coming up from behind and moving towards Scarlet. Angels had the ability to move through light, wherever it was they could be, so she quickly teleported so that she was on the other side of Will. She placed her hands on the demon’s chests and sent them sprawling backwards. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to Hook.

 

“Now, do you want to look at the pictures? Or am I going to have to make you?” She let her voice shift into something deadly at the end of the sentence, showing him she was not to be messed with. 

 

Hook looked around at the devastation around him and did the damnedest thing. He smiled. “Oh, love, you have no idea who you’re messing with.” 

 

Pain. Red-hot, searing pain pulsated through her brain. She instinctively dropped to her knees and clutched at her head. She couldn’t think past the pain. She’d do anything to make it stop. There was something else though, behind the pain. Something old. Very, very old. It was probing her, poking around in the inner recesses of her mind. She did her best to block it out, but there was so much pain. She could feel an arm pulling at her, trying to get her to her feet, but she couldn't move. Whoever it was, they went away after a while. She felt an enormous pressure begin to build behind her eyelids, and she could suddenly see a hazy figure emerging from the dark. It felt familiar. Like a memory. A feeling of dread, of terror, of betrayal, shot through her, and she pushed the figure away. 

 

And then it stopped. 

 

Cool metal touched her face and she opened her eyes to find Hook staring at her. His hook was beneath her chin tilting her face up so she was looking at him, and their faces were so close she could’ve easily leaned forward and kissed him. 

 

“Interesting,” he muttered. 

 

Emma sat there, dumbfounded by their proximity, until she realized what he’d just done and shot to her feet. Light magic shone from her hands and she raised her arms to keep him back. “What was that?” she shot. 

 

Hook smirked. “That was just an old parlor trick I learned awhile back. I find it’s very effective for keeping your kind under control.” He tilted his head ever so slightly and raised an eyebrow. “It didn’t quite work on you. I wonder why.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. She sensed the fight was over, even though she could see the demons she’d knocked down getting back onto their feet. “Felt like it worked,” Emma replied. The demons were edging closer to her, clearly pissed that they’d been bested. Then she realized someone was missing. “Where’s Scarlet?” 

 

Hook held up a hand and the encroaching demons stopped in their tracks. He ignored Emma’s quizzical expression. “Ah, yes, your little friend. He’s in Smee’s office, we’ll join him now that you’ve decided to behave.”

 

“Why are we going to Smee’s office?”

 

“I believe you had some photos you wanted to show me,” he replied as he held open the door to the room. 

 

Emma looked him up and down, and he was clearly amused by the bewildered expression that must’ve overtook her face. “What, so now you’re a gentleman?” 

 

“You bested my team and me fair and square,” he explained as Emma ventured out into the hallway. Then suddenly, he was right behind her, whispering in her ear. “Besides, I’m always a gentleman.”

 

Emma shot him a withering look over her shoulder before making her way down to Smee’s office. She had no idea what had caused his sudden change of heart, but she decided to run with it. At least until she could find a safe way to get out of the damn hotel. 

 

Hook kicked the door open when they reached their destination, and laughed when Will shot to his feet. Emma didn’t miss the relieved look that crossed the younger demon’s face when he saw her intact. He gave her a questioning look to confirm that she was alright, and she nodded quickly. 

 

“So,” Hook started as he took a seat in Smee’s chair and kicked his feet onto the desk. His expression quickly became pensive. “I don’t believe I know your name, love.”

 

Emma snorted. “You didn’t even learn my name before trying to kill me, how chivalrous.”

 

Hook raised an eyebrow and gave her a mocking look. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that, lass.” Then his expression darkened considerably before he tacked on “and I suggest you watch the attitude around me. We wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened back there, would we?” He asked as he tapped his temple with his hook. 

 

“Emma Swan.” She spat back. Pain be damned, she wouldn’t be intimidated. 

 

Hook let out a humorless laugh. “Swan? That’s ironic isn’t it? Quite a fitting name for a bird. I must say, it suits you.” 

 

Emma gave him a bitter smile, before she quickly pulled up the photos on her phone and slid it over to him. “Three victims; two women, one male. Obviously if you can ID the other two victims, that would be helpful, but the one we want you to take a look at is,” Emma swiped to the photo of the kneeling victim. “Her. Whoever did this, they took it easiest on her. It could mean that they knew her, or that they’re partial to demons-”

 

“Not partial enough not to brutally murder her though,” Hook interrupted.

 

“Keen observation,” Emma replied. Hook’s eyes flickered up from the photo and he sent her a warning glare. She ignored him. “She has a hook tattoo, so we figured she was connected to you. Do you know who she was? Or anyone who would want to kill her or someone close to you?”

 

Hook threw the phone down and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head. “Her name’s Lily Page,” Hook started. “She came to me about, a year and a half ago, said she needed asylum. I took her in. She kept mostly to herself, quite an odd girl. Trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went.”

 

Will scoffed. “She was a demon, trouble follows us wherever we go.”

 

Hook scowled at Will for a solid three minutes, causing the younger demon to clamp his mouth shut and shift himself behind Emma. “Like I was saying,” Hook began before his eyes flickered back to the angel. “Trouble followed her wherever she went, and not,” Hook looked pointedly at Will, “the standard kind. She always seemed to be scared of something; constantly looking over her shoulder. About a week ago, she disappeared. No one really missed her,” Hook shrugged. 

 

“And now she’s dead,” Emma sighed. 

 

“Now she’s dead,” Hook confirmed, appearing utterly uninterested in the conversation. He and Regina had more in common than either one of them would probably want to admit. 

 

“Is there any family you know of, someone I can contact to come collect her things or release the body to?” Emma asked, and she couldn’t help the hopefulness that leaked into her voice. 

 

“The girl was an orphan, and she wasn’t the type to have any friends,” Hook cut in, crushing her hopes in one fell swoop. 

 

Because Emma recognized herself in the picture that was being painted. Orphan. No friends. No one to call. It could’ve easily happened to her if she hadn’t had Henry, or David, or Mary Margaret. She could’ve been Lily Page. In some ways, she still was. 

 

Maybe he saw the disappointment on her face, maybe he was just trying to get inside her head, but Hook looked up at her and asked, “You alright, Swan?” 

 

She simply nodded. “Fine. Thank you for your help, Boston PD is very appreciative,” she replied as she made her way to the door. Will quickly turned on his heel and followed her out. 

 

He didn’t stop them.

 

She rode down the elevator in silence, going over the case details in her head. They were getting somewhere, she could feel it. Something about Lily Page was nagging her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She needed to get back to Boston and see if she could start connecting dots. Maybe they could ID the two other victims with this new knowledge. 

 

When they got to the lobby, Emma reached into the backpack Will had been carrying and pulled out the heavy black cardigan she’d been wearing earlier. She pulled it tightly around her body as they made their way back into the New York downpour. It felt good to be outside again, away from all the madness. Emma lifted her face to the sky and sighed. 

 

“Whad’a we do now?” Will asked in an almost childlike tone. 

 

Emma laughed. “Back to Boston, I suppose. I’ll see what I can do with this information, and I imagine Regina is missing your smiling face.”

 

Will gave her a toothy grin. “I am quite entertaining.” 

 

“No arguments there,” Emma replied. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a homeless man leaning up against the hotel, white paper cup in her hand. She could tell he was good, could feel the light radiating out of him. She fished a few bills out of her cardigan pocket and made her way over to him. It would make her feel better to do something good. Angel’s fed off positivity and good deeds. As she dropped the money into the cup, she could feel the gratitude rolling off of him, and it made her feel good. 

 

Their eyes met briefly, he was older and had clearly seen his fair share, and his expression quickly morphed into one of shock. Emma watched in confusion as he gave her a toothy grin, glee overtaking his features. It had to be the aura she was giving off, it was designed to make humans feel good, but she’d never had a reaction quite like this one. 

 

Then, ever so slowly, he raised a dirty pointer finger to his lips as though he were telling her to be quiet. The smile never left his face, and Emma could only reciprocate the gesture, before she made her way back to Will. Maybe he was crazy…

 

“That was weird,” she started as she stuck a hand out to hail a cab. Maybe it was her outfit, but five cabs screeched to a halt.

 

“What?” Will asked as he held open the door. 

 

“That man over there he-“ she began but was interrupted by the shiver that rocked her body.

 

“Swan,” someone yelled out and Emma pinched the bridge of her nose as she turned to see Hook making his way over to her. 

 

“What the hell?” She replied when he reached them.

 

“That’s no way to greet your key informant” Hook smirked.

 

“What do you want?”

 

Hook sighed. “I was thinking about what you said, about this possibly being about me, and I think it’s best if I come with you.” He wasn’t meeting her eyes.

 

“You want to come with us? To Boston? To help?”

 

His head snapped up and he sneered. “That’s what I said isn’t it, Swan?”

 

Emma was the one who stepped forward this time; invading his personal space. She kept her voice low as she asked, “Why do you really want to come?”

 

He waited a long time before responding; brow furrowing and ocean blue eyes staring deep into her own. “If this has something to do with me, I want to make sure that whoever is responsible is handled appropriately.”

 

He was lying. She didn’t know how she knew; if it was her unparalleled instincts, or if he just wasn’t trying to hide it, but she knew.

  
And even though she knew she was dancing with the devil, she still said, “Get in.” 


	4. Man of God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to begin to pick up after this chapter.
> 
> Thank you to my beautiful beta, Mona! @o-u-a-timer on Tumblr!
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Joanie (@handsomeswan), hope your birthday was fantastic sunshine!

**_  
“I don’t want to die without any scars.” - Chuck Palatino_ **

 

Killian Jones was proving to be quite the enigma.

 

He didn’t acknowledge Will or Emma as the three of them made their way to the airport. The initial plan had been to take the train back to Boston later that evening, but Hook had quickly shot down that idea. He’d punched a few buttons on his phone, muttered something under his breath about how they were “bloody insane for thinking he’d waste time with Amtrak”, and then informed them their flight took off in two and half hours. 

 

His mouth stayed shut after that. He seemed content to stare out the cab window into the rain and brood. Emma didn’t mind. She’d somehow been sandwiched between the two demons and was simply trying to keep her composure for the never-ending ride. 

 

The tension between the three passengers seemed to go unnoticed by the cabbie, who refused to stop peppering them with questions. “This your first time in New York,” he asked in a thick Bronx accent. 

 

“No,” Emma replied, giving him a tight smile. The man meant well, and she could tell he had a lot of light in him, so she figured she would humor him. She just hoped he got the message that she wasn’t in the mood. 

 

He didn’t. “Ah! Well then, welcome back! You’re not from the city are you?” 

 

Emma sighed. “No.”

 

“Well what brings you to the greatest place in the world?’ 

 

Hook let out a sharp laugh at that, and Emma resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs. “Just visiting,” she answered. This guy really wasn’t getting the message. 

 

Sure enough, the cab driver locked eyes with her in the rearview mirror. “Nice little vacation then. You all are lucky to be here, ain’t nothing as beautiful as New York,” he said. And then he smiled at her before adding, “well except you.”

 

Emma had been ready for that. She was a divine creature, she was designed to attract humans, to draw them into the light by any means necessary. That meant that, to mortals at least, she wasn’t exactly bad looking. She was used to the leers and the lewd comments. She was more than prepared to simply shrug him off.

 

What she wasn’t prepared for was Hook’s sudden intervention.

 

“Oh for the love of,” he cut himself off with a nearly imperceptible flick of his wrist. 

 

The cab driver’s gaze snapped forward and his mouth clamped shut. Emma watched as all the life drained from his expression, until he was no more than a moving corpse, shuttling them around. 

 

Emma whipped around to face him, mouth agape and eyes wide. “Why did you do that?” she shouted. She could feel small traces of the dark magic he had used buzzing in the space between them.

 

Hook scoffed and settled back against the seat. “I was doing you a favor, darling. You can thank me whenever you want.”

 

Emma heard Will let out a quiet laugh and she quickly shot him a warning glare that had him shrinking backwards. She then turned her attention back to the demon on her right. “Thank you? Thank you for what? For turning an innocent man into a mindless drone? Don’t you think that was a little bit of an overreaction?”

 

Hook gave her a look that clearly conveyed that he couldn't care less. “He was insufferable,” he sniffed. 

 

Emma all but growled at him in response. Without a word, she lifted her hand up and snapped her fingers, eyes never leaving Hook. She knew it had worked when annoyance crossed his features. 

 

Confirmation of her success came when she heard the cabbie ask how old she was. 

 

Hook glowered. Emma laughed. Still smiling, she turned to the driver. “Don’t you know you’re never supposed to ask a woman her age?”

 

The cabbie laughed. “Touché, Princess.”

 

The conversation stopped for several minutes after that, until they crossed the George Washington bridge, and Will said “this isn’t the way to JFK.” 

 

“No.” Hook replied without looking at him. 

 

“You said we were goin’ to the airport.”

 

This time, Hook turned to face him. “We are,” he growled, enunciating both words.

 

Will recoiled. Emma bristled. “Well what airport are we going to?” Emma asked as she positioned herself between the two men.

 

“Teterboro Airport.”

 

Emma paused. “Never heard of it,” she admitted.

 

Hook’s face morphed from a sneer to a condescending smile. It was the smile she used to get when she was pregnant. When people would look at her, 17 and homeless, and think she was just some stupid orphan. Slowly, he let his eyes move up and down her body until she was visibly uncomfortable. “No, I can’t imagine you have, Sweetheart,” he replied. 

Emma didn’t say anything, just stared and stared at him until his face morphed from a cruel look to an impassive expression. Then she closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. 

 

**OOO**

 

He’d been right about one thing, she’d never seen anything quite like Teterboro Airport. Even the cab driver, who’d known their destination, seemed a bit offput as he pulled up next to a row of private planes. Hook quickly directed him a ways down the tarmac, to a sleek white jet that was ready to be boarded. 

 

“Um…” Emma began before quickly realizing she didn’t have words. 

 

“Go board,” Hook instructed, not making eye contact as he fished his wallet out of his leather pants. 

 

Will, who’d been smiling like an idiot since they’d arrived at the airfield, wasted no time in complying with instructions. 

 

Emma rolled her eyes and then turned her attention back to Hook who was pulling a hundred dollar bill out. “I’m paying,” She interrupted as she moved to get her own wallet from her jacket pocket.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Swan. It was hardly a cheap ride,” Hook said, still not looking at her.

 

Emma’s temper flared up at his insinuation that she couldn’t afford the cab. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here. I don’t know if you’re some bizarre, billionaire playboy with anger management issues. I don’t really know what the hell is going on at all, but I do know that I’m paying for this damn cab. Now, get out.”

 

This time, he met her gaze. He studied her for a long time, taking in every part of her expression. She wasn’t sure what he saw there, but eventually he shrugged and stepped out, leaving the door open so she could follow suit. 

 

Emma couldn’t help the small grin that lit up her face at her triumph. She quickly turned her attention to the driver. “How much?”

 

“Fifty.”

 

Emma cringed inwardly; no strawberry Poptarts for a while. She quickly pulled out the money and threw in an extra fifteen for tip. It was a decent bonus, but the man had been subjected to Hook, and maybe her angelic side influenced her more than she admitted. 

 

The cabbie was clearly grateful for her generosity. “Well, thank you darlin’. Prayed the Lord would send me an angel and he did.”

 

The irony almost made her laugh out loud. “Man of God?” Emma asked and smiled in spite of herself. He definitely had no idea he’d been flirting with a divine being. 

 

“Through and through. And you?” 

 

And before she could even answer, Hook, who she hadn’t realized was still standing next to the cab, popped his head back in. “Oh no,” he purred. “She much prefers the Devil.” 

 

Emma sighed and shoved him back outside. “You have a lovely day,” she muttered as she exited. Turning around, she focused her attention on the sizable plane sitting innocuously in front of her.

 

Lord help her, she had no idea how she was getting through this flight. 

 

Hook approached the stairs, ignoring the pilot’s greeting as he tapped away at something on his phone. She could see Will had already seated himself on the plane, nose pressed up against the window. Judging by the hostile looks she was getting from the cabin crew in front of her, not to mention the dark auras surrounding them, they were all demons. 

 

This whole situation was completely ridiculous. 

 

This was also, apparently, her life now. 

 

“Don’t look so petulant, Swan,” Hook called, breaking her out of her reverie. He looked damn good standing halfway up the steps, body leaning lazily against the railing. The wind was ruffling his jet black hair ever so slightly, and he was actually giving her a genuinely amused smile. 

 

“Pardon me for not being ecstatic about the present situation,” she replied as she trudged after him. She did allow him a small smirk when she finally came to rest just below him on the staircase. “This isn’t exactly how I thought my day was going to go when I woke up.”

 

Hook raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think you’d be riding on the multi-million dollar jet of a devilishly handsome demon?”

 

Emma rolled her eyes, but the smile didn’t leave her face. “Being in the company of  _ multiple  _ demons wasn’t on the agenda, no. The multi-million dollar jet thing is pretty standard stuff though.” 

 

Hook laughed, and the sound made it a little harder to hate him in that moment. “I’d expect nothing less.” Then his grin turned into something a little more salacious and Emma stepped back. “Though, if the ride gets to be a bit much, you can always crawl right up next to me.”

 

There he was. “You couldn’t be a gentlemen for more than a second, could you?” Emma asked as she shoved her way past him and up the steps.

 

Hook gave an overly exaggerated bow before following right behind. “I’m always a gentleman, but you’d do well not to forget what else I am.”

 

Emma turned once she was in the doorway of the plane and looked at him. He was a step below, staring up at her with bright, mischievous blue eyes. She could see how he was right; it wouldn’t be hard to forget what he was. He may be horribly sadistic and possibly psychotic, but he was also charming as hell. Which made him all the more dangerous. “I won’t,” she assured. “Don’t think I’m taking my eyes off of you for a second.” She turned to enter the plane, only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw the exterior. If she had thought the outside of the aircraft was luxurious, this put it to shame.

 

Suddenly, she felt hot breath on her ear and realized Hook had come up behind her. She could practically feel death on his tongue as he whispered “I would despair if you did.” 

 

**OOO**

 

It could be worse. 

 

She was on a plane with a bunch of demons, she hadn’t slept in nearly a week, and Will had fallen asleep a few moments after they’d taken off (something about traveling clearly worked like NyQuil on him). Which meant it was just her and Hook sitting in silence while he watched her like a hawk and she stared out the window.  

 

On the upside, the stewardess had brought her some very expensive champagne, so she had that going for her. 

 

Why he’d chosen to take the seat that was facing hers when there were plenty of others was beyond her. She’d almost protested. Almost told him to back the hell off. Almost told him she was one snide look or word away from homicide. 

 

But she didn’t, and she didn’t know why. She just sighed, downed her champagne, and tried her best to ignore his probing gaze. 

 

Maybe it was the fact that she’d consumed roughly a bottle and a half of alcohol in thirty minutes. Maybe she was just really tired of his judgement. Maybe it was curiosity, but suddenly she snapped, “Can I help you?”

 

Hook raised an eyebrow in surprise before he smiled at her. “Am I bothering you?” 

 

His casual attitude  _ was  _ really starting to bother her. No matter how irritated she grew, or how much she lashed out, he remained cool and collected. For anyone else, that would probably be seen as a good thing, but for Emma “never let them see you sweat” Swan, his ability to get underneath her skin and stay there was frustrating beyond belief. “Pardon me if I don’t like being studied like a zoo animal.” 

 

Hook laughed; a cold, humorless sound. “Maybe I was just admiring your beauty,” he suggested.

 

Emma scoffed. “Okay, sure. We’ll go with that,” she replied, expecting the conversation to end.

 

It didn’t. “Someone’s a little defensive,” Hook challenged. 

 

Emma rolled her eyes at the implication that she’d ever care what he thought. “I don’t appreciate being lied to.” It was a half-truth, although he was definitely lying about the “admiring her beauty part”. She didn’t need her magic to see that. 

 

“And how do you know I’m lying? Pretty sure your angelic gifts only cover humans.” Hook replied, asking the question everyone did.

 

“I’ve been able to tell when someone was lying to me long before I died. It’s my superpower.”

 

Most people laughed or scoffed or rolled their eyes and quickly dismissed her when she said that. Hook didn’t. In fact, his face held a deadly amount of seriousness as he asked, “And where did you learn to do that?” 

 

Emma didn’t even flinch, simply maintained eye contact with him as she said, “I guess I’ve just been lied to so much I’ve gotten used to it.”

 

Hook held her gaze for a few more minutes before he smiled and let it drop. “Well love, I’m pretty good at lying.”

 

It was a challenge, and she rose to the occasion. “You’re tricky I’ll give you that, but let’s not mince words here; you’ve been lying since you got here. Starting with when you so politely offered to accompany us back to Boston to help on the case.” Emma watched as his jaw flexed and he glanced too quickly out the window. “Want to tell me why you’re really here?”

 

He didn’t answer. “You know, usually people who don’t like to be analyzed have something they’re trying to hide,” he replied, deflecting back to their earlier conversation. 

 

Emma let it go. For now. “Maybe I do.”

 

At that admission, Hook’s smile grew. “You might as well stop trying.”

 

Emma did her best to appear bored with the conversation, but there was a cold sensation creeping up the back of her neck.“Why’s that?”

 

“You’re something of an open book.”

 

Alarm bells began to go off in the angel’s head. This conversation was going somewhere she couldn’t let it. She should shut it down. Stop talking. Stop baiting him. Instead she said, “Oh, please. You think you know me?”

 

“All too well, love. You’re resentful and angry and you’ve got a chip on your shoulder regarding the so-called ‘gift’ you’ve been given. You could’ve easily transported yourself from New York to Boston through the light and you chose not to. You clearly possessed the power to take out my men and you refrained from doing so. When I was in that pretty little head of yours,” Emma flinched as she remembered the encounter. Hook settled back into his chair nonchalantly. As though analyzing her was some mundane task. “You pushed me out. You fought back. That’s something that I’ve never seen before, and, rest assured, I’ve used that power a lot. And as soon as it was over, as soon as I was out, you retreated into yourself. You shoved it all back in, I felt you do it. As though if you let that power escape, it’d destroy you. Like you were… _afraid_ of yourself and what you could do. Even now, you can’t let yourself relax because you’re scared to lose control. You’re grasping at your humanity like it’s going to disappear at any moment.” There was inherent satisfaction in his voice; he knew he was right and there was no arguing otherwise. He had one eyebrow cocked and a challenging smirk on his face. There was something else too; something dangerous. His tone was dark, sinister, quiet, as though he was daring her to tell him he was wrong. 

 

Emma quickly catalogued all her possible escape routes. She could lock herself in the bathroom for the rest of the trip. She could open the emergency exit and jump. Hell, at this point she could just murder him, because dammit he knew too much. Instead, she fixed him with an uninterested glare and pushed her walls as high as they’d go. “And how would you know any of that?” 

 

All of the goading left his face in an instant and he looked almost pained as he watched her. Then he glanced at the ceiling as though something very interesting was going on up there. “Maybe because I related to that struggle, once upon a time.” His eyes then drifted back to her face, and she couldn’t even mask her shock before he spoke again. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Angel. I’ve been at war with my demons for over six hundred years, trust me, they always win in the end.” 

 

It was everything she’d never wanted to hear. She wanted to ask him what the hell he knew about it, but if she’d heard him correctly he’d said he was over six hundred ( _ six hundred _ ), so she simply settled for outright denial. “You’re wrong. I won’t become cold and impassive and detached like the other angels. And I most certainly won’t become one of you. I have something to live for.”

 

Hook chuckled darkly. “Your son?” Emma started at the mention of Henry and Hook gave her an “I know everything and don’t you forget it” look. “He’ll die eventually. They all do. Then it’s just you. All alone. You can talk a big game now, but come find me when you’ve lived half as many lifetimes as I have.” 

 

Emma felt her throat begin to constrict. She was gripping the armrest so tightly the metal was beginning to crumple beneath her fingers.“I’ll fight.”

 

He smiled like he was happy to hammer the final nail into her coffin. “You’ll lose.” 

 

**OOO**

 

They probably looked like quite the team as they rolled up to the District B-2 precinct in search of David. Emma was a little miffed that she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to drop her two guests off at Regina’s, but David had insisted she come directly to him. At this point, it was well past midnight, and every light in the place was off except for one in back where David’s desk was.

 

“This is where your brother works? David, right?” Will asked from behind her as they strode through the office. 

 

“Yes,” she answered. Her energy was so low, angel’s power was drained slightly during the night, and she hadn’t rested in days, that she’d been reduced to single sentences and grumbling. 

 

“You have a bobby for a brother?” Hook asked, slight amusement in his tone.

 

“What?” Emma asked, although she didn’t really care. She expected that it was an English term. Given his age, Hook’s vernacular was probably extensive.

 

He confirmed her suspicions with a roll of his eyes. “A cop.”

 

“Oh, yeah. He’s a -“ Emma cut herself off just as she reached the door. It hadn’t dawned on her that she was bringing two demons, one who was very powerful and very old, to meet her very human brother. Both of them could kill David with a flick of their wrists, and if she wasn’t expecting it, she’d be powerless to stop either of them. 

 

It was so much harder to keep someone alive than it was to kill them. 

 

Emma whipped around, suddenly wide awake and alert. “If either of you,” she allowed her gaze to move to Will for a moment, but was primarily focused on Hook, “make any sort of move towards my brother, it’ll be the  _ last  _ thing you do.” 

 

Will gulped nervously at her words, but Hook seemed to be enthused at her threat. “Quite passionate, aren’t we, Swan?”

 

Emma stared him down, trying to get it through his thick skull that she was serious. She wouldn’t be surprised if he harmed David just to test her. “He’s my brother. I’ll drag you down to hell myself if you even  _ look  _ at him the wrong way.” 

 

Hook assessed her with a lazy smile on his face. “Believe it or not, I understand a thing or two about family bonds. Blood is thicker than water, ties that bind, all that good stuff.” Hook held up his hand and hook in mock surrender and said, “I won’t hurt him.” 

 

She always knew when he was lying. This time he wasn’t. 

 

Emma nodded and allowed herself to relax ever so slightly. She fixed a smile on her face, one David would instantly see through, and shoved her way through the door. 

 

Her brother looked up from the paperwork on his desk and smiled at her as though they hadn’t just seen each other two days ago. “Emma. You made it back alive.”

 

She knew it was meant as a passing comment, but the irony, and her lack of sleep, made her giggle. “Barely,” she replied. 

 

David looked behind her and his gaze turned from welcoming to guarded in a fraction of a second. “Who are these two?” Emma watched his hand instinctively move to the gun sitting holstered on his hip. It was the same stance he took when facing a criminal, or Emma’s former flames. Not that there was much of a difference between the two. 

 

“This is Will Scarlett,” Emma said as she gestured to the man on her left. “He works closely with Regina. And this,” Emma looked over at Hook. He was clearly enjoying watching her try and describe him. “Is Hook. They’re-“

 

“Demons,” David supplied, cutting her off. Emma raised her eyebrow in question and he explained “I know the difference between you and Regina. These two clearly fall on her side of the line.” Emma was slightly alarmed that he’d been spending so much time with the divine community that he could tell the difference between angels and demons, but he continued before she could ask. “Hook, huh? Is that because of the,” David gestured vaguely at where Hook’s left hand should be.

 

The demon in question waved his hook around. “Nothing gets by you, does it, mate?” 

 

David scoffed. “Seems a bit impractical, doesn’t it,  _ mate _ .” 

 

Emma watched Hook step forward ever so slightly, and she quickly moved in front of him. He didn’t notice. “On the contrary, it was forged in Heaven and burned in Hellfire, so I’ve found it particularly effective for gutting Birds as well as my kind.” Emma flinched instinctively and moved a little further from the weapon. Blades that had seen both Heaven and Hell, which were extremely rare and hard to come by, were the only things that could kill Angels and Demons. She’d thought that’d end the conversation, but then, just because the pissing contest wasn’t over, he added, “Mate.”

 

David stepped forward, presumably to give the ancient, dangerous, homicidal demon a piece of his mind, but Emma was there first. She moved quickly, so that David started a bit when she materialized in front of him. 

 

“Enough,” Emma hissed. She threw a look over her shoulder at Hook to make sure he was hearing her as well. 

 

David huffed melodramatically. “But he-” 

 

“ _ Enough, _ ” she repeated, cutting him off. 

 

Emma waited until she was sure he’d listen. He was clearly peeved, but he’d do as she said. David was nearly as stubborn as she was, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew his place in this scenario, and that her orders were the difference between life and death. 

 

“Fine,” he grumbled. 

 

Emma smirked, satisfied, and turned back to Hook. He looked entirely too smug. “Stop,” she warned. It was like disciplining two teenagers. 

 

“What?” Hook asked, but the word came out almost like a laugh and he was clearly amused by the furious look David had on his face. 

 

Emma jabbed a finger at the both of them. “You two need to knock it off. This is a murder investigation, Jesus. You’re making Will look good,” she said, nodding her head towards Scarlet. 

 

Seeing Will’s pleased expression, Hook snapped, “Piss off.” 

 

How she ever managed to get herself into this situation she’d probably never know. She didn’t think she was a bad angel, but she’d clearly fucked up in a previous life to deserve this. She was surprised they all hadn’t whipped their dicks out to see whose was bigger at this point. With a sigh, she turned back to her brother. “What did you want to show me?” 

 

David nodded as he switched back into work mode. He beckoned for her to come look at the papers that he had on his desk and she quickly moved to stand beside him. Hook and Will made moves to follow, but remained on the other side of the desk after Emma shot them a warning look. “First things first, I have a warrant to search Lily Page’s apartment,” he said as he passed it off to Emma. 

 

The angel tucked it into her jacket pocket. “Great, I’ll swing by in the morning.”

 

David nodded. “We can meet up at nine tomorrow.”

 

Emma felt the breath whoosh out of her lungs and her muscles lock.“You’re not coming,” she spat as though she’d been slapped.  

 

David’s head snapped up and he looked at her in disbelief. “You’re not going by yourself, this is our case.” 

 

Emma shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. There’s plenty of other things for you to do here,” she replied.

 

David’s eyes widened so much she was sure they’d pop out of his head. “You can’t be serious, Emma! I’m not letting you do this alone.”

 

“This isn’t up for debate. I’m not putting you in harm’s way. I’ll be fine. This isn’t your fight, David. You don’t have a say in this, the decision is made.” Her voice stayed level throughout their discussion. She wouldn’t argue this with him. His safety was non-negotiable. 

 

“Emma-“

 

She didn’t let him continue. “I’m happy to take care of this on my own if you insist on getting in the way. We’re dealing with shit that’s a little out of your area of expertise. You’re human, do you know how easy it’d be for you to get hurt? I appreciate your help, but I don’t need it. Not if you’re going to be reckless.”

 

David was fixing her with his best “I’m your older brother, you’re going to do what I say” look. “If you honestly think I’m going to listen to you-“

 

“I can make you listen to me.”

 

There it was. The one thing they never brought up. The one threat she promised herself she’d never make. She could feel the darkness bubbling up within her. It was happy. It pushed her to take it one step further. To make absolutely  _ certain _ he would listen to her. 

 

He was human, and she was divine. It was the truth she never acknowledged. She could bend his will if she really wanted to, as much as she denied it. As much as she tried to convince herself there was no difference between the two of them, it was tangible in the air as David stared at her, shocked. She wanted to take it back. 

 

She didn’t

 

If he was going to throw caution to the wind, she would throw all her carefully cultivated “rules” out right along with it. The rules that said she would never use her power on humans, that she’d never use her powers at all, because it pushed her away from her own humanity. Now she wasn’t just prepared to use it, she was prepared to use it on her brother. 

 

Her incredibly fragile, mortal, human brother. The brother who she knew would take a bullet for her, even though he didn’t need to. He would die before he let anyone touch a hair on her head. She had to protect him from the world he’d so blindly followed her into. If he was going to be in her life, he had to listen. There were some things that were non-negotiable, his safety being one of them. If she had to break his heart to save his life, she’d do it without batting an eye. 

 

Perhaps yesterday, she would’ve been shocked that Hook was the one to break the silence. Today, however, she’d learned not to be surprised by anything. “I’ll go with her,” he said quietly.

 

Emma and David both turned to him. “What?” Emma asked, having completely forgotten what they were talking about. 

 

“I’ll accompany you to Lily’s.” His eyes quickly flicked over to David’s as he said, “I’ll keep her safe.” 

 

Emma looked between the two of them, something passing between the men. “I can take care of myself just fine,” 

 

Hook met her gaze and chuckled. “I’m well aware of how capable you are, Love. Nevertheless, it’s always good to have an extra hand when venturing into the unknown.” He said, and then his expression became darker. “Besides, you’ve seen what I can do.”

 

Emma remembered back to this morning, and while she wasn’t fond of having Hook around, his presence would be useful. Plus, it would be nice to not be on the receiving end of his power.  

 

David interrupted her thoughts. “I’d feel better if he went with you.”

 

Emma’s mouth fell open at her brother’s one-eighty. He’d been ready to deck Hook about ten minutes ago, and now he was trusting him with her life. She felt as though she should be insulted that he didn’t think she could handle herself, but she knew where it was coming from. If it came down to a fight, David would be much more willing to see Hook go down then her. She wasn’t sure how to tell him that the demon would never sacrifice his life for hers, so she grumbled,“Men” and turned back to the papers.  

Her brother hesitated and she glanced back at him. “There was something else,” David started. 

 

“What?” 

 

David shuffled back and forth and looked everywhere in the room except at her. “We ran a background check after you sent me her name. Nothing really came up in our initial search, and we’re still working on it. She seems to have buried a lot of information, and there’s a few court documents we’re trying to have unsealed. Except…”

 

Emma straightened. “What is it?” 

 

David sucked in a short breath before he blurted, “She’s from Minnesota.” 

 

Emma vaguely heard Hook ask “What the hell does that abhorrent state have anything to do with this?”, but she was far, far away. She was back in Hopkins, Minnesota, in a group home with no one to turn to.

 

No one but Lily Page.

 

That was why the name was so familiar. A lifetime ago, it had just been her and Lily against the world. Two young girls that no one had wanted had taken comfort in the fact that at least they had each other. That was until Lily turned down a dark path, and tried to drag Emma right along with her. Wherever Lily went, chaos was not far behind. After one betrayal too many, Emma had finally stopped forgiving her, and the cord had been cut. She’d all but erased her from her memory. 

 

Funny how our old ghosts had a way of coming back to haunt us. 

 

Under different circumstances, if she had been different, Lily’s death probably would’ve been a huge blow. They’d been best friends, after all. She knew that she should be sad, or maybe a little bit nostalgic, or  _ something.  _ She figured she’d mourned that loss so long ago, she’d already come to terms with it. 

 

So when David asked if she was okay, she shrugged and gave him a wooden smile. “I’m fine. Is that all?”

 

Her brother clearly didn’t buy it, but he had the sense to know to let it lie. He nodded and said, “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else. Let me know how tomorrow goes.” 

 

“Great,” Emma replied and then she turned on her heel and left. She didn’t bother checking to make sure Will and Hook were following her out, she didn’t really care. She just wanted out of there. She wanted to be home, in her bed, with her son sleeping in the next room. She wanted to be able to taste PopTarts and coffee and vanilla cupcakes. She wanted to drink alcohol to feel the burn, not just to get drunk. She wanted to fall down and scrape her knee and bleed. She wanted people to stop fucking dying. 

 

She wanted to be human, if only to feel something other than impending loss. 

 

But because this day hadn’t been bad enough already, she heard Hook yell out “Swan,” from behind her. 

 

She whipped around and took in his form from across the parking lot. “What?” she bellowed. 

 

She blinked and suddenly he was right in front of her, materializing from the darkness surrounding her. 

 

“Don’t do that!” she yelled as she took a step back. 

 

“Do what?” Hook asked, clearly confused as to why her anger was being projected onto him. 

 

She wasn’t really sure either, but he was there and she was so frustrated she felt like she was going to burst out of her skin. “Don’t use your powers and move through the shadows and skulk and brood in the corner. Don’t come out here to give me some speech or try and comfort me. Don’t act like you know me. Just be normal, for the love of God!”

 

She saw the imperceptible flinch he gave at the end of her rant. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the G-word, or because of her anger. His face contorted with rage as he said, “But I’m not normal. I’m not normal, I’m not a pathetic little human, and, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but neither are you. You’re not normal, Swan, and your friend is dead.”

 

Emma looked around for somewhere, anywhere, to escape to. It slowly dawned on her that she’d left her Bug at the train station, and she really didn’t want to have to ask David for a ride. There weren’t going to be a lot of cabs out at 2 AM near a police station and suddenly she was exhausted. “She wasn’t my friend,” she managed to say. 

 

There was a nearly imperceptible change between the two of them as Emma allowed herself to feel the emotions of the day. As she finally let her guard down ever so slightly, if only because she was so damn tired.

 

Hook’s face softened ever so slightly. It made her hate him a little less. “Aye,” he replied. 

 

Emma looked at him for a beat, just let herself really look at him. She decided that, past the dizzyingly handsome face, and the over-the-top arrogance, he seemed tired too. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

 

Hook nodded. “You’ll be alright getting wherever it is you’re going?” 

 

Emma smiled in spite of everything. “You’re right, I’m not normal.” She nodded over to a nearby streetlamp, “I’ll be fine.” 

 

His voice came out as a whisper, and she decided that, while there was no kindness in his eyes, no real affection, there was sympathy. “Then I’ll see you in the morning, Swan.” 

 

Emma watched him head over to where Will was waiting, before the two of them melted into the shadows. Sighing, she turned her attention to the flickering light across the street. Doing this at night was significantly harder given that she was working with an artificial source, and not a very strong one at that. Still, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the lamp that Henry always left on for her on the bedside table. She visualized her room, half-illuminated in the glow. When she felt the familiar tug, she let her eyes snap back open, and in half a second, she was standing next to her bed. 

 

She fell asleep, fully clothed, with the light on.

 

**OOO**

 

_ The air smelled like gunpowder. Her dress was torn in several places and the heavy white material  was dragging in the snow beneath her feet. She was trying to keep up, but the panic was rising and making it difficult for her to breathe. Her hood had fallen down again, and she pulled it back up to cover her distinctive blonde curls. They were coming. She had to hurry, she had to… _

 

_ And then suddenly there was a dull pain in her chest. It felt as though someone was squeezing all the air from her lungs. If she’d thought she couldn’t breathe before, she’d been wrong. This was like nothing she’d ever felt before. She clawed at her throat and began to rip open her dress, trying to stop the sensation. It wasn’t just her lungs anymore, it was her heart. It was being crushed, beating much too rapidly. She was prepared to tear it out of her chest.  _

 

_ And then it stopped.  _

 

_ It was worse then.  _

 

_ She didn’t know how, and she didn’t know why, but she suddenly understood with perfect clarity what that meant. She wasn’t in pain anymore, she was in agony. She stopped processing what was around her, knowing that the only thing she needed to do was get to him. She needed to get to him and fix this. Fix it all.  _

 

_ Someone grabbed hold of her arm from behind her and spun her around so she was facing them. A young man looked back at her, wide brown eyes analyzing her every breath. Emma took in the calm front the darker man was putting up, but she could see the panic barely concealed in his eyes. She’d known him too long for him to deceive her.  _

 

_ “We need to go, Emma. They’re coming,” the man implored.  _

 

_ “No, no, I have to get to him, I have to-“ She began to pull away, barely recognizing her own voice. She sounded desperate beyond belief.  _

 

_ “We don’t have time. We need to go, we need to go.”  _

 

_ “No!” she screamed, and if she hadn’t recognized her voice before, she surely didn’t now. She sounded dark. She sounded dangerous.  _

 

_ Suddenly, as if not by her own accord, her arm went sweeping out and the man flew backwards into a nearby tree. She felt her resolve harden. He couldn’t stop her.  _

 

_ He was fading quickly, his head bleeding heavily. Still, he reached out to her. “Emma, please, don't do this. Don’t go down this path again. If you do, all our work is lost.”  _

 

_ She was already walking away. “I won’t let him be the cost.”  _

 

_ She heard him scream her name one last time before everything went black. _

 

Emma woke with a start, panting heavily. Angels didn’t need to breathe, but for some reason she felt as though the air couldn’t come fast enough. Her hair was matted down with sweat, and the fabric of her sweater was clinging to her body. It was still dark outside, and when she looked over at the clock she realized she couldn’t have been asleep for more than two hours. It had just been a bad dream. 

Except that she hadn’t had a dream in nearly a decade. Angels didn’t dream. When they slept, if it could even be called that, it was more like charging a phone; they were like machines. Everything shut down during their rest, including their brains. They only needed to do so every couple of days, and only for a few hours. The older they got, the less often rest was required. She could only imagine how long Hook could go.

 

Shoving that thought from her mind, she sat up. Angels didn’t dream. That was the rule. She’d always told herself she’d give anything to be able to have a dream again, to escape her life for even a moment. This was different though. Emma wanted nothing more than to forget this experience. She was still shaking, but the breath was coming a bit easier now. It must have been a fluke then, a rare exception. Except that…

 

Except that this hadn’t felt like a dream.

 

It had felt like a memory. 

  
  



	5. All the Things Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the two people who looked this over - Lena (lenfaz) and Mona (o-u-a-timer). I owe you my life.

 

**_"Death ends a life, not a relationship.”  - Mitch Albom_ **

 

Emma’s eyes snapped open at 8:15 on the dot. She’d somehow managed to fall back into unconsciousness a bit past five. She could hear Henry rummaging about in the kitchen. He normally took care of breakfast in the morning, given that she was almost always out late catching perps. 

She’d taken off her shoes and jacket when she’d woken up from her dream, so she threw on a hoodie over her t-shirt and ambled outside. Emma tried to remember her nightmare, but felt as though she was grasping at straws. Everything had been so crystal clear before, and now it was jarringly murky. There was something else too, something else she was forgetting… 

 

“Hello, Love,” he said, answering her question. 

 

Her eyes took in his sprawling form on her couch. He’d ditched all the leather, and was wearing a black Henley and skinny jeans. He looked incredibly amused as his kohl-rimmed eyes darted over her body. She was slightly alarmed she hadn’t felt his presence sooner, was it possible to grow used to the feeling of a demon? She had been spending an inordinate amount of time with them…

 

“Mom, your cocoa is done.” 

 

She spun around, her face fixed in horror, and was greeted by her son extending a mug towards her. He was holding her favorite cup, Henry had made it for her when he was in third grade. It said “World’s Best Mom” on it, and he’d drawn some horrible picture of the two of them on the other side. She’d cried when she’d gotten it. It had felt like a lie at the time. 

 

It felt like a lie now, as he said “What?” like nothing was wrong. 

 

In a flash, Emma was in front of Hook, hand wrapping around his neck as she hauled him to his feet. “What are you doing here?” she growled. 

 

“Mom, what the hell?” Henry sputtered from behind her. 

 

Hook was smiling. “I quite like you like this, very commanding.” When she tightened her grip on his throat he said, “We have to go to Lily Page’s residence.” 

 

“I know that, but what are you doing  _ here _ ?” she spat. 

 

“Her Majesty,” and where most demons said the name with reverence, Hook said it like it was an insult. “Gave me your address so that we could go on our merry way. I also brought your car for you.” 

 

“Mom, would you stop? Killian is cool.” 

 

Maybe it was the shock of hearing her son refer to homicidal, sociopathic, demon Hook as “Killian”, a man she wasn’t sure existed, but she let him go. There was a beat as she assessed Henry, tried to see if he was serious, and then “Killian?”

 

Her son looked incredibly put out with her. “That’s his name,” he shot back. 

 

“Watch it,” she replied reflexively. Emma turned to Hook, “You’re letting him call you Killian?” She didn’t manage to keep the surprise from leaking into her voice.

 

Hook looked incredibly sheepish as he scratched at his ear. “Like the boy said, it is my name,” he muttered uncomfortably.

 

“I didn’t know you had such a soft side,” Emma replied, smiling in spite of herself.

 

“I don’t,” he insisted.

 

“Whatever you say, Hook,” she teased. She figured that while her son may be able to get away with using his given name, he’d have no qualms about ripping her apart should it ever pass her lips.

 

“Did you know Captain Hook is based on Killian?” Henry asked, seemingly springing back to life now that the situation had diffused a bit. 

 

Once again, Hook looked incredibly uncomfortable. “Mr. Barrie and I were associates,” he explained. “Seemed a few bits of my personality, as well as,” he held up his hook. “This, inspired him.”

 

Emma stared at him in disbelief. “You were friends with J.M. Barrie?”

 

Hook smirked at her surprise, seemingly back in his element. “The man was a child in an adult’s body, anyone with that affliction tends to enjoy the company of a less savory crowd. He was an easy target.” Hook shrugged. Then, he sauntered a bit closer to Emma and said, “You’ll find, Swan, that I’ve made many friends over my long, long lifetime. Some of the people I get into bed with may surprise you.” 

 

Emma scoffed and lightly pushed him backwards. “I have no interest in your bed or whose in it.” Since she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the fact that Henry was in the presence of a very dangerous demon, she quickly added, “We should go.” 

 

Hook looked her up and down with a raised brow. “You sure you don’t want to change, Love?” he asked with a laugh in his voice.

 

Emma paused for a brief moment, remembering her dirty jeans, ratty sweatshirt, and greasy hair. He was right, she probably should change, but hell would have to freeze over before she let him have this one. Reaching behind him, she grabbed her red leather jacket off the peg next to the door. “Nope,” she said and shrugged.

 

To her surprise, Hook just smiled. “If the lady insists. It was nice to meet you, lad,” he called to Henry, giving her son a little two-finger salute. 

 

“You too, Killian. I’ll let you know how it goes with Violet.”

 

Emma’s eyebrows shot up so fast she was worried they’d get lost in her hairline. “What?” She all but shouted as she turned around between the two of them. “You told him about Violet?” 

 

Hook laughed. “I was just giving the lad some advice about women.”

 

Emma glared at him so hard she was certain he’d spontaneously combust at any moment. Then, without warning, she began to shove him towards her front door while she called out “Don’t you  _ ever  _ take this idiot’s advice about anything!  _ Especially _ women, my god!” 

 

From behind her, she heard Henry sigh.

 

From in front of her, she heard Hook laugh. 

 

**OOO**

Emma threw her hair into a ponytail at the first stoplight they came to. It slowly began to dawn on her, much to her horror, that she hadn’t showered in multiple days. She shifted subtly away from Hook, hoping she wasn’t giving off an odor. 

 

“Sleep well, Angel?” Hook asked, and the light tone of his voice suggested he knew exactly what she was doing. 

 

“Mhm,” Emma murmured as she stepped on the gas. 

 

Hook was all but laughing now. “Your son revealed some interesting information about your sleeping habits.” 

 

Emma froze just long enough for him to notice. “Did he?” 

 

Hook kept his gaze fixed forward, as did Emma, but she could feel the smugness radiating off of him. “He did. He said you snore.” 

 

Emma felt a pulse of rage fly through her veins, and her Bug jumped forward as her foot pushed down further on the pedal. “I do not! You know that’s not true; Angels and Demons don’t snore! Sleep puts in a nearly comatose state,” she cried, and the indignation in her voice made her cringe. 

 

“And yet, in your comatose state, you still somehow manage to snore. Defying the odds left and right, Swan,” Hook replied. 

 

Lily’s was only a few miles away, she lived in nearby Roxbury, but Emma felt as though this car ride would never end. She didn’t dignify his ludicrous proposition with a response, although she’d certainly have a few choice words for Henry when she got home. Although, his words did bring another question to her mind, and so she asked, “Do Demons ever dream?” 

 

Hook turned his head to look at her, and a quick glance at his face showed that all traces of joking had left his expression. Sure enough, his voice was deadly serious as he said, “No. Divine beings don’t dream, surely you know that.” 

 

Emma nodded as she refused to meet his gaze. “I know that that’s the party line, but I’m wondering if you, or anyone you know of, has ever… dreamed… or hallucinated… or something…” 

 

“Have you?” Killian asked, and there was something else buried deep in his voice; it sounded almost accusatory.

 

Naturally, Emma’s defenses flared up. “Never mind,” she hissed, and just as he was about to say something, her gaslight saved her. “I need to fill up,” she bit and abruptly turned into an Exxon station. Truth be told, the turn may have been a little  _ too  _ abrupt because Hook knocked his head into the passenger window, but she was springing out of the car before he could say anything. Emma watched him clamber out and shoot her a disbelieving look before he muttered something about making a “phone call.” She paid him no mind as she made her way to the back of her Bug. 

 

The angel could not make her hand stop shaking as she wrestled with the fuel cap on her car. When she’d asked him if demons dreamed, she’d been afraid he’d say yes. That whatever the hell she’d experienced last night meant that she was traveling down a dark path; that she was one step closer to becoming what she feared the most. 

 

Somehow this was much worse. 

 

Demons  _ didn’t  _ dream, of that Hook had seemed sure. She trusted that, if there was any exception to that rule, he’d have found it by now. So, what did that mean exactly? What did it say about her that she was apparently the first divine creature in at least six hundred years to have this happen to them? 

 

What the hell was going on?

 

She heard it before her mind processed what it was. Something was whizzing up behind her much too quickly for her to do anything, even with her heightened reflexes. Emma’s body reacted differently than it had at Regina’s, or when she’d first met Hook at his hotel. She shifted instantly into an ethereal state, as if her brain had decided that there was no benefit to keeping in control. It was fight or flight, and in a split second she’d picked fight. 

 

She’d picked a second too late. 

 

Maybe if she hadn’t been so distracted, she’d have noticed something was amiss before. Unfortunately, all she could do was watch the glistening silver arrow as it hurtled towards her. She knew, given the fact that it was moving at a speed too fast for a human weapon, that it was made of mortifero. She had no chance. This was it. Emma was going to die. 

 

He came out of nowhere, barreling into her like a freight train. She was so caught off guard she went tumbling to the ground without resistance. Her muscles locked and she stopped breathing, but she didn’t push him off when he told her to keep still. Hook stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, keeping her pinned beneath him, as his eyes darted around. 

 

Every instinct she had was telling her to kill him and get the hell out of there, but she managed to keep those urges at bay. She knew he was trying to protect her, and murdering him probably wouldn’t do any good. Still, it was hard to keep herself in check when the adrenaline was pulsing through her veins. 

 

They stayed like that for a bit longer, until Hook decided that whatever, or whoever, had attacked them was gone. He then seemed to remember that he was literally on top of her and shifted his weight so that it was on his arms rather than on her. He did not, however, make any attempt to move out of her personal space. 

 

“Are you okay?” Hook asked, and Emma was confused at the genuine sincerity in his tone. 

 

She found that her mouth was incredibly dry. “I’m fine,” she croaked, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “Could you help me up?” 

 

Hook nodded and leapt to his feet, pulling her up gently as he went. They both instantly realized what a bad idea that’d been when her knees gave out and he’d had to catch her. He was very careful to make sure his hook didn’t get too close to her exposed skin, instead resting it against the leather of her jacket. “Here,” he muttered as he dragged her over to the passenger side. He then proceeded to open the door with so much unnecessary force that Emma was briefly sure he’d rip it off. “Sit,” he commanded as he all but dropped her onto the seat. 

 

“Do you know who that was?” Emma asked as she adjusted herself. 

 

Hook had his body positioned so that he was shielding her side of the car. His eyes continued to scan the street, and Emma was loathe to admit that she did feel marginally safer with him here. “No idea. They took off on a bike after they shot at you.” His gaze flickered to her and his brow furrowed in concern. His hand moved up to the left side of her head, as though he were going to touch her, but she shied away instinctively. A brief flash of pain crossed his features, but it was gone before Emma could regret her actions. He gestured to his own ear. “They appear to have nicked you, Love.” 

 

Emma’s hand shot up to where her hairline met the skin just above her ear, and sure enough it came away covered in sticky gold. She’d never quite gotten used to the fact that angel blood was a golden color. It did give her a nice glow all year round, but it always had been a little off-putting. “Ow,” she muttered belatedly. 

 

“You’re lucky it wasn’t your chest,” Hook smirked. “I’ll go get something to absorb the blood from the attendant.” 

 

Emma waved a hand at him to dismiss the idea. She quickly reached around into the backseat and pulled out a fistful of brown napkins from  _ Chipotle _ . 

 

“Charming,” Hook sneered as she dabbed at her head. 

 

She winced slightly as she pressed, the cut stung like a bitch, but he was right, it hadn’t been fatal. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

 

Hook was visibly startled. “What?”

 

Emma scoffed and removed the napkins from her cut for a brief moment so she could glare at him properly. “You saved my life. I’d have been shish kabobed if you hadn't been here. So, thank you,” Emma replied. 

 

The demon was visibly uncomfortable at her gratitude, shifting from foot to foot. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t want you getting  _ shish kabobed _ , as you so eloquently put it. Besides, I told your brother I’d take care of you, so,” he trailed off.

 

“So, I think one of these days you’re going to have to admit that you don’t hate me as much as you pretend to,” Emma goaded. 

 

Hook smirked at her playfully, clearly grateful the mood had shifted into a joking one. “Me? Not hating an Angel? It’ll be a cold day in hell.” 

 

Emma laughed and threw her bloody napkin into the backseat, enjoying the grimace that overtook Hook’s face. She’d get it later. Probably. “We should go,” she said as she started to get up from the seat. 

 

“I’m driving,” Hook shot as he all but shoved her back down. Without waiting for her reply, he hurried over to the driver’s side and began to buckle himself in.

 

Emma could only gape at him as he turned the key in the ignition. “You cannot drive my car! I’m fine! The cut is basically patched up, accelerated healing works like a gem,” she protested.

“I’m not worried about your cut, I’m worried about you calming yourself down. We need you out of your ethereal state before we get to Lily’s, otherwise the humans will think I’m talking to myself.”

 

Emma realized that he was right. Didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her lower lip out. “Driving calms me down,” she grumbled. 

 

Hook laughed as he pulled out of the station and onto the road. “I’m sure it does.” He paused for a moment, smile falling off his face, before he said, “I haven’t met any divine beings who’ve had dreams. Doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” 

 

Emma didn’t say anything, just fixed her eyes forward and nodded. 

 

“Not a cross I’d be willing to bear,” Hook said so quietly she thought she’d heard him wrong.

Emma glanced at him. “Pardon?” 

 

“The dreaming thing. I wouldn’t want it. When I sleep, although it’s infrequent at this point, it’s the only break I get from my own head.” Hook swallowed and kept his eyes on the road as though his life depended on it. “There’s nothing in this world I’d want to dream about.”

 

“What about good dreams? Happy dreams?” Emma asked, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. She didn’t want to care about him, but the idea that everything he’d ever had could be so tainted, every memory, every hope, every love, was making her chest ache. The angel in her was overly sympathetic to the plight of other creatures, which was the clear explanation for why his pain was hers. 

 

Clearly.

 

Hook smiled and she wanted to cry. “I don’t have those.” 

 

**OOO**

They only made it half a mile down the road before they realized Emma hadn’t actually filled the tank at the station, but other than that they got to Lily’s without any more hindrances. Her friend’s place was appropriately seedy, but nothing Emma wasn’t used to given the residences she used to occupy. 

 

“Lily lives,” Emma paused for a moment before she corrected herself. “Lived in apartment 3A.” 

 

Emma felt Hook’s eyes on her, but she didn’t move her gaze off of the building’s front door. “You alright, Swan?” he asked. 

 

There it was again, that genuine concern he kept showing that she just couldn’t seem to ignore. She almost wished he’d go back to being an ass. “Fine. Let's go see the super,” Emma muttered as she charged forward. Hook, to his credit, followed behind her without comment. She could have sworn she felt his fingers ghost the small of her back, but the sensation was gone before she could check. 

 

They found the super’s door with relative ease, and Emma didn’t waste anytime with pleasantries. “Boston PD,” she yelled as she pounded on the door. 

 

Emma heard rustling around inside before the door was thrown open and a grubby little man in a stained undershirt and checked boxers was in front of them. “What?” he spat. 

 

The smell that wafted through the air must have hit Emma and Hook at the same time, because as soon as she wrinkled her nose he groaned, “Jesus, mate.” Emma turned to find his face contorted in disgust. “Do you have an  _ entire _ marijuana dispensary in there, perhaps a dead body or two?” 

 

“Hook,” Emma scoffed, although the comment did make her smile. 

 

Hook gave her a disbelieving look, like he could not understand why he was being chastised given the smell that was coming from this man’s room. “How ironic is it that we’re conducting a murder investigation, and this man is clearly hoarding dead bodies in his room. I mean there is no other explanation.” 

 

Emma expected the super to fire back in some way, but when she turned back to him she realized he was too busy leering at her to have any idea what they were saying. The angel rolled her eyes. “We have a warrant to search the apartment of Lilith Page,” Emma droned as she pulled out the document. 

 

“I’ll help you in any way I can, sweetheart,” he purred and Emma suppressed her gag reflex. 

 

Hook didn’t suppress any of his reflexes as he lunged forward so quickly, Emma had to place a hand out to stop him. “Did you miss the part where I mentioned that we were conducting a murder investigation? Perhaps you’d like to be the next victim?” Hook growled. 

 

Emma watched the man sputter like a fish on land, and while she knew she should say something, she decided to let herself enjoy the moment. She may have been required to keep her composure, given that she was representing the police force, but who was really being hurt besides the little perv in front of her if she let Hook fly off the handle. “Can you let us into Lily’s residence, or am I going to have to go in myself?” 

 

The super didn’t say anything, he simply shoved past the two of them and refused to make eye contact. 

 

The demon swept his hook in the human’s direction. “After you, Swan.” 

 

Emma gave him a tight-lipped smile and followed the man up the stairwell. “What can you tell me about Lily?” she asked.

 

The super looked over his shoulder as he huffed up the stairs. He seemed slightly shaken, but largely unaffected by Hook’s threat. That was to be expected; the more immoral a human was, the less fazed they were when it came to divine encounters. When you had nothing to lose, you were harder to shake. “Can’t tell you much. Lily kept to herself, she was an odd girl,” he muttered as he opened the door to the third floor. 

 

“What do you mean?” Emma asked as she followed him down a grimy hallway. There was trash littering the ground and somewhere in the distance, she heard a baby crying. Or at least she thought she heard a baby crying. This place was bringing back bad memories of some of her former houses. 

 

The super ignored her question. “You said this was a murder investigation.”

 

Emma shot a dirty look at Hook over her shoulder. “I can’t confirm or deny anything of the sort, nor have I.” 

 

The human gave her a smug, knowing grin. “Yeah, well, your partner did. Look, I just need to know if I can rent her apartment out to someone new.” 

 

“Well considering the fact that she’s dead, yeah I’d say you can,” Hook replied in his disarmingly uninterested tone. 

 

If Emma’s look had merely been dirty before, this one was downright lethal. If the demon wasn’t already dead she was certain he would be now. “We cannot comment on an ongoing investigation at this time,” Emma spat, to which Hook gave a noncommittal shrug.

 

“That’s a relief,” the superintendent sighed as he reached what Emma assumed to be Lily’s door. “Can’t say anyone’s going to miss her.” 

 

Emma’s gaze flicked from Hook to the man fiddling with the keys to the apartment. “What do you mean?” Emma repeated, and if the human could hear the hostility that now laced her question he showed no sign. 

 

He shoved the key into the door. “Lily was a weird girl, dangerous too. The kind you just wanted to instinctively avoid. Trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went. The girl had no family, no friends, it’s not really a surprise what happened to her. Good riddance if you ask me.” 

 

Emma wasn’t really sure what happened after that. One minute the super was pushing the door open, the next minute he was pinned against the wall with Emma’s hand around his throat. She pulled her other hand back, readying herself to deck him across the face. “She was my friend,” she roared. 

 

“Swan, don’t,” Hook yelled and she felt his hand wrap lightly around her shoulder. His voice was enough to make her stop for a moment as he said, “This isn’t you.”

 

“You don’t know me,” Emma growled as she kept her attention on the gasping man in front of her. She could feel the darkness well up inside her, temporarily drowning out the light. 

 

Hook, who could also sense the varying degrees of light and dark someone possessed in their souls, must have felt it too. “Don’t let it win. Lily’s gone, there’s no sense in hurting this man.” 

 

Emma considered his words carefully. It probably wouldn’t hurt her too much if she did take physical action against this human, but as she felt the darkness working its way through her veins, making her fingers tingle, she reassessed. She worked so hard to maintain her humanity, to be as good as possible, that she wasn’t about to let a passing comment break her. 

 

She slowly released his neck, loosening her fingers one by one, until he fell to the floor. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding him off the ground, her divine strength having kicked into gear in her rage. Emma realized she was lucky she hadn’t killed him accidentally. “Go,” she spat. 

 

The super scrambled to his feet, but Hook quickly grabbed him by the shirt. As the demon stared into the human’s eyes, the man’s expression went from fearful to blank. “Speak of this to no one,” Hook said, voice sounding like honey as he bent the human’s free will. His tone took on a hint of malice as he added, “And never speak badly of Lily Page again.” 

 

Emma watched as the super stumbled down the hallway after Hook released him, glad to be rid of the man’s presence. “Thanks for that,” Emma whispered. 

 

Hook looked visibly uncomfortable at her gratitude, scratching nervously behind his ear. Naturally, he resorted to what Emma was quickly realizing was his number one deflection tactic. “There are other ways to show your gratitude,” he purred, cadence sounding not unlike what he’d used to influence the super. 

 

Emma rolled her eyes and quickly shot back, “Only in my nightmares.” 

 

Hook’s expression darkened as he gave her a once over. “Well from what you’ve told me, those aren’t all that uncommon for you, are they, Swan?” 

 

She didn’t answer, just lifted her chin and stared right back at him. She knew he was trying to get under her skin, but the thing was, she didn’t regret opening up to him about her dreams. His words to her in the car earlier had been the only thing that’d made her feel better about the situation. He may have been a dick, but he was on her side. 

 

For now, she reminded herself. 

 

Letting out a huff, she glided past him and entered Lily’s residence. She heard Hook’s footsteps come in behind her, but she was too busy taking in the cramped living room to notice. It was sparsely decorated, an old, plaid couch that looked like it’d been found in a dump was in the center of the room, and a few lawn chairs surrounded it.  Lily had also placed a piece of wood on top of two cinderblocks to create something resembling a coffee table. There was a kitchenette off to the side of the room, but judging by its current state it had hardly ever been used. 

 

That was it.

 

There were no pictures of family or friends, no children’s artwork on the fridge, not even a piece of junk mail. To anyone else, it would feel as though no one had ever lived here. It was just an abandoned room in a shitty neighborhood in Boston. 

 

Emma Swan wasn’t just anyone. 

 

Emma noticed the cup of coffee, now cold, sitting in the sink. She saw that one side of the old plaid couch was more sunken in then the other. She paid attention to the book on the makeshift table;  _ The Catcher in the Rye _ , which was clearly well-loved given the way the spine bent. 

 

These were the signs you left when you were nobody. The little things that said “I was here”, even when no one was looking for them. Emma knew what signs of life, but not of living, looked like. Emma had been nobody before she’d had somebody, before she’d had Henry, and David, and Mary Margaret. Before she’d found her family.

 

Something Lily had never had the opportunity to do. 

 

So when Hook said, “Don’t touch anything you might get tetanus,” Emma hadn’t laughed. She hadn’t said anything. “You alright, Swan?” he’d asked shortly thereafter. 

 

“I’m fine. Absolutely fine,” she’d said back a little too quickly and a little too aggressively. 

 

She watched as the demon rocked back and forth on his heels, floorboards creaking in protest. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked and she had to laugh at how displeased he sounded at the idea of that. 

 

Emma shook her head. “Really, I’m fine. It’s just that I’ve been here before. There’s no one to call and tell that she’s dead. We just turned her body over to the morgue and they’ll dispose of it and that’ll be it. There’s no one to cry, or mourn, or plan a funeral. There’s no one to care, and I feel like I have to do it and I didn’t even know her and,” Emma swallowed and willed herself to continue. There was something that felt safe about opening up to Hook. He didn’t know her, and he wasn’t in a place where he could judge her, so there was no harm in telling him this. It’s not like anyone would believe him anyways. “And that could’ve been me.” 

 

Hook nodded, and she was surprised he actually seemed to be pondering her words. “It wasn’t you though,” he finally replied.

 

Emma shook her head, he wasn’t getting it. “But it could’ve been. Before I had my kid, before I had my brother, this was me.” 

 

“Except that it wasn’t.” Hook cut in. “This wasn’t you, this isn’t you. I don’t pretend to know anything about your past, Swan, but I do know enough about you now to say that you could never have been this. You heard the way the human described her.”

 

Emma stiffened and shot back, “He didn’t know her.” 

 

Hook stood his ground and tilted his head in a seemingly sympathetic way . “Maybe so, but that didn’t mean what he was saying was untrue. She was a demon, Swan. You don’t become one of those unless you have darkness inside of you.” He stepped closer to her, his voice dropping to a whisper so quiet she wouldn’t have heard him if not for her heightened senses. “Unless you’re a bad person.” 

 

Emma mirrored his actions, stepping closer and whispering, “I don’t buy that. We all have darkness inside of us. You saw mine ten minutes ago when I almost killed that guy.” 

 

Hook continued to close the space between them. “Aye, but you didn’t. You stopped yourself. Lily was bad and you are  _ good.”  _ He said the word like it was an insult. “It’s why you could never be what she was. People will always care for you, you will always be loved. That’s the difference between you and Lily. That’s the difference between you and,” he stopped himself before he finished the sentence, mouth clamping shut like he was afraid of what was going to come out.

 

Emma stepped up so that their chests were touching. The proximity made her instinctively uncomfortable, but she didn’t shy away. “Difference between me and who?” 

 

Hook stared at her for a minute, studied her silently before he stepped back and said, “The difference between me and you.” 

 

Emma felt the breath rush out of her lungs as it slowly dawned on her that maybe she wasn’t the only one in the room who could sympathize with Lily Page. She might not have been the only one who felt alone. “Everyone can be loved,” she said quietly, deflecting back to his earlier statement. 

 

Hook gave her a twisted smile. “But not everyone deserves it.” 

 

Emma flinched and clamped her mouth shut. They weren’t talking about Lily anymore, and they both knew it. The angel stood in stunned silence as Hook looked away and moved into the next room. She truly had no idea what to say to him, how she could show him he was wrong. Words had always failed her, and right now she’d give anything she had for that not to be the case. 

 

Luckily, she was saved by Hook’s voice calling her into the next room. There was an urgency in his tone that sent her heart plummeting towards her feet. That, and the fact that he’d called out “Emma,” when she was pretty damn sure he hadn’t used her first name since they’d met, made her regret getting out of bed this morning. 

 

The first thing she noticed when she entered the room was that it was empty save for a stained mattress pushed into the corner. She then saw that someone had written, in blood or red paint, she didn’t know, “Nesir Sah Roivas Eht,” on the wall. It was the same message that had been at each crime scene. 

 

It would have been off-putting on its own, but it wasn't until she turned around that she realized Hook’s real cause for distress. His back was to her, eyes clearly transfixed on the opposite wall. Someone, Lily or some third party, had covered the wall in photos. There was no white space peaking out; every single inch of wall was plastered with pictures. 

 

Pictures of Emma. 

 

**OOO**

 

Emma wasn’t sure how long she stared at the images, eyes traveling rapidly across the length of the wall. There were some that had been taken at her home, some that had been taken at the station. Henry, David, Mary Margaret, and Regina all made appearances in the collage. They appeared to go back as far as when she had first arrived in Boston, and the most recent one that she could see had been taken two weeks ago at a family dinner near the Harbor. 

 

At some point during her panic attack she must’ve sunken down to her knees because Hook materialized in front of her. He crouched down so that he was physically shielding her from the wall, blocking it from her line of sight. “You’re okay, Swan,” he whispered, and his hand hovered over her shoulder, as though he were afraid to touch her.

 

Emma let out a shaky breath, slowly coming back down from the mental ledge she was about to jump off of. “She has a serial killer wall dedicated to me. She stalked me, she took pictures of my family, how the hell am I okay?” 

 

Hook sighed, moving his hand back to his side. “On the plus side, Lily’s dead, so at least she’s not adding to her moving tribute.” 

 

Emma shook her head and made a move to stand back up, Hook following after her. “We don’t know that she was the one who did this. Someone could’ve taken up residence here after she died and put the photos up. Hell, they could’ve been paying her to take those photos of me. She might not be the real culprit here.” Emma cut herself before she could admit her real fear, although she suspected that Hook, who was overly intuitive, already knew what it was.

Lily, who it appeared had been stalking Emma for the past decade or so, had turned up dead a few days ago. Any good cop knew that made Emma the prime suspect in an ongoing murder investigation. 

 

Sure enough, Hook read her like the open book he claimed she was. “This doesn’t mean anything, Swan. You had no idea she was doing this until just now, your reaction to these photos was enough to prove that. I’ll make sure anyone who asks is quite clear on that. In fact, if you want we can just destroy the creepy tribute to you and no one will be the wiser.”

 

Emma laughed in spite of herself and, against all odds, felt grateful for Hook’s presence. He had an effortless way of making her feel a bit better, which probably had to do with the fact that whatever she’d seen, he’d seen worse. “Unfortunately, we need to report this. Could be crucial in finding whoever is really doing this. I’ll call David and get him to send a team out here.” 

 

Emma was pulling out her phone to do just that when all of the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her muscles began to coil as the bile rose in her throat. The adrenaline that began to pump furiously through her veins could only be indicative of one thing. 

 

Hook must have felt it too, because in half a second he was beside her and shifting so that he was facing the door, hook ready to meet whoever was coming.

 

Demon. 

 

She approached slowly, sauntering out of the shadows like a model on a runway. She wore a skintight green dress and a black cape held together at the neck by an emerald broach. Her green leather gloves made Emma wonder if she was going for some sort of theme when she chose her outfit this morning. She was the kind of put together that Emma could only dream of being. The only thing that wasn’t immaculate about her, were the wild red curls that fell all around her long face. She was beautiful.

 

Beautiful and undoubtedly dangerous. 

 

“My, my, my,” the demon purred as she stepped fully into the room, black heels clicking against the floor. “Isn’t this a pretty sight? An angel and a demon working together, please don’t stop on my account.” The woman had an English accent, and her tone seemed to be one of perpetual amusement even as she gave them a murderous glare. 

 

“Zelena,” Hook growled, and the angel stepped back instinctively. His voice oozed with pure hatred, an anger directed towards the woman that Emma had yet to experience. 

 

“So glad you remember me, my darling,” her ice blue eyes glistened jovially as she turned her attention to Emma. “Now, don’t be rude and introduce me to your new pet.” 

 

Emma stepped forward, mostly because she could literally see the darkness radiating off of Hook, and it was only getting stronger. It wouldn’t be long before it temporarily overwhelmed him and then they’d really be screwed. Not to mention the fact that the woman’s condescending tone was grating on her. “The pet can speak for herself, and she’d like to know who the hell you are first.” 

 

Zelena’s eyes lit up with satisfaction. “Oh, the doggy has some bite to her, does she? I’m Zelena Mills.” 

 

Emma fell short at that. “Mills? As in Regina Mills?” 

 

Hook, who seemed to be reigning himself in given that the dark aura around him had dimmed slightly, chuckled. “They’re sisters,” he said as though it were the most amusing fact in the world. 

 

“ _ Half _ sisters,” Zelena hissed and it was the first time she exuded a mood other than entertained. 

 

“Aye, half sisters. Zelena got the crazy in the family, Regina got everything else,” Hook goaded. 

 

If he was trying to get under the other demon’s skin, it worked. “Don’t talk about her in my presence or you’ll regret it.”

 

Hook rolled his eyes and stepped closer to the red-head. “Please, you and I both know I could send you right back to the backwoods you came from. Zelena, you and I fought this battle years ago.” Hook cocked his head and raised an eyebrow as he asked, “Have you forgotten who won?” 

 

The female demon looked ready to pop with anger. Emma would’ve been amused if she herself wasn’t about to burst from the adrenaline rush was experiencing. Just as she was sure Zelena was about to strangle Hook, her face reverted to its amused expression. “Ah, Darling, hasn’t anyone informed you? There’s a new player in the game.”

 

Hook’s face fell. “What are you talking about?”

 

Zelena ignored him. “That’s quite the wall there. Such a moving tribute, it’s a shame really.” The demon smiled as she eyed the hundreds of photos of Emma from across the room. 

 

The angel’s muscles locked up, something in Zelena’s words setting off alarm bells in her head. “What’s a shame?” 

 

The woman was determined to evade all of their questions. “You know, I think you and I,” Emma was surprised to find Zelena looking at her and not Hook. “Are going to have a lot of fun with this,”she said as she moved towards the angel.

 

Suddenly, Zelena was on her knees, hands grasping the sides of her head as she let out a low scream. Emma turned to find Hook staring at her intently, chin lifted defiantly as he watched her suffer. The angel had to admit that it felt nice to be on the other side of his power as Zelena let out another yell. 

 

“Enough games,” Hook whispered darkly as he dropped his chin. Zelena let out a gasp as she came back to reality. “Tell us why you’re here.”

 

Then, as if the day hadn’t been weird enough, Zelena began to laugh. It was a cackling noise that reverberated through the spartan room, and Emma couldn’t help but move a bit closer to Hook. “Oh, my darling, I should think it was obvious,” Zelena rasped as her blue eyes landed on the angel. 

  
“I’m here to see Emma.” 


	6. Smiles Like a Fist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, to my betas, Lena (@lenfaz on tumblr) and Mona (o-u-a-timer on tumblr). We're really picking up next chapter - both plot wise and romance wise :)

 

**_“Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy,” - F. Scott Fitzgerald”_ **

 

So the crazy lady, Zelena, knew her name. She knew Emma’s name and apparently had come to the residence of murder victim, Lily Page, to see her. And if she was Regina’s sister, that meant she was old, and age meant power. So, the powerful, unhinged demon had come seeking her out. 

 

Fantastic.

 

Fantastic and utterly predictable really, because she was Emma Swan. She was Emma Swan so of fucking course the powerful, unhinged demon had come for her. A unicorn could pop out of the closet and start singing folk music and she wouldn’t be surprised after everything she’d witnessed.

 

Hook clearly hadn’t gotten the “Emma Swan is a glutton for cruel and unusual punishment”, because he looked floored when Zelena said her name. “What do you mean you’re here for her?” 

 

Zelena gave him a beautiful, if slightly crazed, smile. She peeled herself up off the floor, having fallen when Hook had used his dark mind magic on her. “I mean I’m here to see Emma. Size her up. You hear so much about her these days.”

 

Emma had had just enough of Zelena dancing around the topic. “Do you want to tell me the hell you’ve been hearing about me? Or do I need to make you?”

 

Zelena laughed; an airy, dainty noise that seemed at odds with her personality. “You really don’t know! My how far you’ve fallen! I supposed you can relearn all the tact you’ve clearly lost. He’ll be in for a shock, that’s for sure. You aren’t at all what he’s expecting.” 

 

Something in Emma snapped, and with a growl and a wave of her hand Zelena had flown backwards and through the wall. Emma followed after the red-headed projectile, and stepped into the living room. “What who is expecting?” Emma asked as the demon stared at her, covered in drywall and plaster. 

“Power is definitely there, although not as much as I’d have thought, given what I’ve heard.”

 

Emma vaguely registered her wings unfurling from her back as her hands began to glow with white-hot energy. Her gaze stayed fixed on Zelena as she moved closer. “Don’t test my patience; I don’t have much of it,” she rasped.

 

“I’d listen to her, Zelena. She can be quite nasty when she doesn’t get her way,” Hook chimed in. Emma chanced a glance behind her to find him leaning against the wall, calm and collected. The only part of him that wasn’t wearing that nonchalant mask were his eyes, which blazed with an excited fury. There was clearly a part of him that was enjoying seeing Emma like this. 

 

Demons had different reactions to angel’s ethereal states. Most looked on them with a form of disgust, or disdain. There was also the ever present envy at that which they had lost. Very rarely, demons appeared to take some sort of satisfaction in the ethereal state. Some enjoyed a challenge, others simply appreciated the raw beauty and power that came from such a metamorphosis. It was as though it gave them a sort of high, an adrenaline rush. 

 

As she watched Hook watching her, she sensed that satisfaction, that paradoxical high one can only get from being in proximity to something they hated. At the very least, he clearly approved of her knocking Zelena around a bit. 

 

Smiling, Emma turned back to the woman in front of her. “Let’s try this again. Who sent you?” Emma growled.

 

Zelena laughed. “Sorry darling, I don’t make the rules. There’s a new chess piece on the board, and, unfortunately for you, he’s not ready to reveal his identity. Anyways, where’s the fun in that, when the game has  just started?” Then Zelena’s eyes flickered back to Hook. “From one pawn to another, I can’t wait to see who gets a checkmate first. Best protect your Queen, Darling, they’re coming for her head.” 

 

Whatever Emma had been expecting, that wasn’t it. She’d been expecting a fight, an argument, some sort of clash, not for Zelena to play coy. So when a flash of dark magic filled the room, Emma did nothing to stop the demon from fleeing. One minute she was sitting in front of Emma, and with a flickering of the lights she was gone. Emma stared at the place she’d been, dumbfounded, for what felt like hours. 

 

Hook’s voice pulled her out of her reverie. 

 

“Swan, they’re gone. They’re all gone,” he called, voice sounding distant and panicked. 

 

Emma turned towards him in a daze. “What’s gone?”

 

“The photos.”

**OOO**

 

“What do you mean she escaped?” Regina bellowed, and Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes. 

 

Luckily, Hook was speaking, and so she was saved from saying something she’d probably regret. “She didn’t really escape, seeing as how she was never really prisoner, if we want to get technical.” 

 

Regina threw her arms up in exasperation. “Yes, you morons let my psychotic half-sister get away, but sure, let's get technical.” 

 

The lights surged as Emma turned her attention to the female demon. “Oh cry me a freaking river, Regina! Yeah, she escaped, I messed up, I’m well aware of how much a fuck-up I am. Could you please not remind me? As far as I can tell, all you’ve been doing is sitting on your ass while the rest of us try and find a killer.”

 

“Sitting on my ass? Don’t forgot who sent you on the path to identifying Lily Page. Without me, you and your pretty-boy brother would still be wandering around in circles,” Regina’s voice had shifted into a growl. 

 

Emma didn’t even know why they’d come here. Hook hadn’t wanted to, saying that he preferred to stay as far away from the Queen as possible, but she had insisted. Why had she insisted? 

 

“Sorry we’re late, the rain held us up,” Emma heard her brother’s voice call as he and Mary Margaret entered the room. 

That’s why she’d insisted, because she thought they could all meet up. The station was too busy during the day to discuss things like this. She also figured she shouldn’t announce to all of Boston PD that she was basically suspect number one. 

 

Although at this point, it seemed like a better alternative. 

 

“Speak of the devil,” Regina interjected, voice morphing into a purr. She seemed amused with herself as she went to sit at her desk. 

 

Mary Margaret flinched visibly when she took in the speaking demon. Emma’s best friend and Regina Mills had never really gotten along, which, quite frankly, made sense given how opposite they were. Still, Mary Margaret did was she always does, and threw a smile on her face, even if Emma could see how forced it was. “What did we miss?” 

 

Emma opened her mouth, but Hook interrupted her, saying, “The rain held you up?” It sounded like it was the most implausible thing in the world when he said the words.

 

“Yes?” David replied hesitantly. She could tell her brother was still wary of the demon, which made her a little proud if she was being honest. Wariness meant that he wasn’t being attracted to the darkness within the two fallen angels. 

 

Hook was off in his own little world with that piece of information. “It wasn’t supposed to rain today,” he muttered, clearly not talking to anyone in the room. 

 

Emma waited for him to elaborate, but he simply took a seat in on Regina’s couch and looked perplexed. “Anyways,” Emma began, not really knowing where to start. “We went to Lily’s,” she offered. 

 

David’s eyes flickered from Hook over to her, his interest clearly piqued. “Did you find anything?” 

 

That drew Hook out of his stupor. “Oh, Mate, did we ever,” Hook laughed. 

 

Emma wanted to hit him upside the head at how gleeful he sounded. The entire car ride home he’d been cracking jokes and innuendos about the entire situation as though it wasn’t the end of her world. She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, or he was just completely incapable of taking a situation seriously. Regardless, some of the comments had made her smile (“if anything we can frame the superintendent!”, “we can’t do that”, “why not?”, “it’s illegal”, “you’re no fun and he’s still my prime suspect), but now was not the time. “It seems that, for the past ten years or so, Lily has been stalking me.”

 

David started. “She stalked you?”

 

“She had hundreds photos of me plastered on a wall in her apartment. You all made appearances in a few as well.” 

 

David looped his thumb through the belt band on his jeans, and began to gesticulate in the air with the other. It was his cop pose, and he was using it on her. “You’re sure? And you swear you had no contact with her after foster care.”

 

Emma sighed. “Not that I can remember. I promise, David.” She needed him to believe her, his opinion was everything. She was pretty sure if he didn’t, she’d have a complete and total mental breakdown in Regina’s office. 

 

David nodded. “Where are the photos?” There was something in his voice that Emma couldn’t quite figure out. 

 

“They’re gone.” 

 

David sagged visibly, and at first she thought it was disappointment, but, no, that wasn’t it. It was relief. She’d misinterpreted that pose earlier, that wasn’t his cop pose, that was his big brother pose. In her defense, they were very similar, you could only tell by his eyes which one he was executing. One said no one messes with me, the other said no one messes with you. “That’s good,” he whispered so lowly she knew that he’d forgotten everyone else in the room had heightened senses. 

 

Emma’s heart plummeted at his words. She should’ve known, and, deep down, she probably did, that David would give up everything to for her. His money, his time, his job, his morality, his life…

 

His light.

 

And she was certain she was literally the worst angel ever, because she’d caused her own brother, her good brother, to consider choosing darkness over light. It was almost comical how bad she was at the one job she was eternally committed to. Good job, Emma Swan. 

 

“No, that’s bad,” Emma stated firmly, as though she was chastising Henry.

 

She received confirmation that David hadn’t realized they’d heard him when his ears pinkened. “I just meant that it’s good that we don’t have any evidence that might incriminate you.” 

 

Emma pressed a finger against her temple. The part of her that was fiercely dedicated to her own self-preservation, to not going back to jail, was telling her to nod and drop it. The angelic part of her was telling her to make her brother see the light if she had to shove his face in it. Then there was the part of her that wanted her brother to know that she wanted him to take care of himself, that he couldn’t destroy himself trying to save her.

 

That part of her always won.

 

“But we do have evidence to incriminate me, and that means that you have to take me in.” Emma held out her wrists for the cuffs and did her best to suppress the bile rising her throat because of the dejavu that was occurring. “It’s your job and that’s okay,” she tried to smile at him, but it probably came off as a grimace.

 

“Okay, let’s calm down for a second. I’m sure there’s another option here,” Mary Margaret, ever the optimist, supplied. 

 

“I agree with the bird,” Killian smirked as he stood up from the couch. Mary Margaret shot him a withering look but he continued. “You’re being an idiot, Swan,” 

 

Mary Margaret looked affronted. “I didn’t say that.” 

 

“Aye, but you meant it. We’re all thinking it.” Emma saw Regina nod out of the corner of her eye. “Martyring yourself, while in character for an angel, is about the dumbest idea you’ve had.” 

 

Emma felt genuine anger bubbling up inside her, anger that she didn’t quite recognize. There was the familiar brand of annoyance she felt whenever Hook opened his mouth, but there was something else. “Don’t speak to me like that. He needs to turn me in, it’s the right thing to do.” 

 

Hook gave her a cold smile. “You lot and your obsession with doing the right thing. What does that even mean; the right thing? There’s lots of ways to build a boat, Swan, but I don’t think there’s a right one.”

 

Emma cocked her head. “Pretty sure there is. He’s a cop, it’s his civic duty to turn me in when I’ve done something wrong.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw David flinch, and Mary Margaret took his hand in her own. She knew her brother was probably uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, but she turned her attention back to Hook. 

 

The demon raised an eyebrow. “But you haven’t done anything wrong.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Emma fired back instinctively. How many times would she deny that he knew anything about her? Until she believed it?

 

Hook rolled his eyes like he was addressing a fussy child. “Yes I do. Now stop being so utterly ridiculous. He’s not taking you to jail.” 

 

She hadn’t realized they were slowly circling one another until she was planted in front of David and Mary Margaret. His dismissal of her concern caused whatever rage was brewing to spill over. “Why are you trying to corrupt him?” she yelled. Emma noticed Mary Margaret shift so that she was in front of David, blocking him from the conversation that was quickly going south. 

 

That, finally, caught him off guard. “What?” He sounded genuinely confused at her question, like it was the most out of place thing he’d ever heard. 

 

Emma’s voice came out in such a ferocious tone she didn’t recognize it as her own. “He’s not becoming dark, I’ll see to it.” It didn’t sound like she was trying to convince Hook. Across the room, Regina took a step backwards, eyebrows raised in surprise at Emma’s anger. 

 

Hook shook his head exasperatedly. “What are you saying, do you hear yourself? That’s not what this is about.” 

 

Emma’s anger calmed slightly at his seemingly genuine confusion. “Then what is it about?’

 

The demon threw his arms up, fed up with the back and forth. “This is about punishing the right person. Angels are all about right and wrong, don’t you think we should take this slow? Make sure we catch who really did this? Isn’t that what’s most helpful to your brother’s morality, rather than having him make a hasty decision because you’re scared.”

 

He had her right up until his last two words. Her anger returned and she bellowed, “I’m not scared! Why are you so concerned with keeping me out of jail?”

 

“Because you’re more useful to us out here then you are in there,” he shouted. It was a half-assed reason that he’d clearly come up with on the spot, and she could see him thinking about it two seconds after he said it. He seemed satisfied though, because he gave her a self-assured nod and stared her down. 

 

Emma felt her body deflate as all of her anger seemingly evaporated. She knew there was more to it then he was letting on, but she finally understood how irrationally upset she was getting. She had thought he was challenging her, trying to pull her brother to the dark side. It had been instinctual, some long buried reflex, and now that the sensible part of her brain had kicked back into gear, she felt kind of bad. She still wasn’t convinced that David turning her in wasn’t the right thing to do, but she figured it may be useful to have her aiding them for a bit longer. “Fine,” she sighed.

 

“Fine?’ Hook asked, surprised. 

 

“Fine,” she affirmed as she took her turn sitting on the couch. 

Regina was the one who broke the awkward silence that ensued in the moments after, not that she made it any less awkward. “Well, now that you two are done having your lover’s quarrel,” David made a move to say something at Regina’s words, but Mary Margaret placed a hand on his arm. “Perhaps we can all discuss what to do next like adults.” 

 

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes and moved to sit next to Emma. “By all means, Your Majesty, why don’t you tell us what you had in mind.” Mary Margaret took Emma’s hand and gave it a light squeeze, and the blonde placed her head on her friend’s shoulder. 

 

“Well, Flower Child, my sister said she was working for someone. I think we can all guess who it is.”

 

“Arthur,” Hook muttered sourly at the same time as David said, “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

 

Regina shot David a glare. “Forgive me for not mentioning my crazy half-sister when you and I were braiding each other’s hair at girl’s night.” 

 

Emma’s brother crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “Well where is she? I’m sure we can get some information out of her.” 

 

“I let her get away,” Emma supplied, lifting her head up. “I wasn’t ready and she slipped away through the darkness.”

 

David’s eyebrows furrowed. “How does that work? How do angels and demons even square off if you all can just run away anytime you feel like it?” 

 

Emma was beginning to feel exhaustion creeping back into her bones, even though she’d just rested last night. Apparently it hadn’t been enough. She was pretty sure after this whole ordeal was over she’d sleep for months. A week had already left her wiped. 

 

Perhaps sensing her exhaustion, Hook answered her brother’s question. “It’s a bit complex, mate. When we’re fighting, our magic sort of neutralizes one another. Say Swan and I were going at it,” Hook winked at the innuendo. “Her magic would wrap around my dark aura, if you will, and block it. Mine would do the same to hers. We can still teleport a few feet, but not long distances, so our fights end up looking like a game of tag as we move back and forth.”

 

David scoffed. “I don’t know how you managed to make it sound so dirty, but I think I get it. So, because Emma wasn’t ready she wasn’t blocking Regina’s sister?”

 

“Exactly. When we’re engaged in a fight, neither of us is going to let up on the block we’ve made because it would give the other person the chance to escape, or show weakness.”

 

“So how does it end?” 

 

Hook paused, his eyes flickering over to Emma, asking her if it was okay to continue. She nodded. “Most of the time, one of us dies.” 

 

David swallowed visibly. “Got it,” he whispered softly. 

 

Mary Margaret moved to his side and began to rub his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s not going to come to that, no one is dying.” 

 

Regina clapped her hands together. “The hippie is right, no one’s dying. We just need to figure out our next move.” 

 

Hook, who had slowly been making his way over towards Emma since he’d last spoken, chimed in. “I should think it was obvious. Zelena said their was a new player in the game, but that he wasn’t ready to reveal himself. It’s probably a safe assumption that the ‘he’ she was referring to is Arthur.” He perched himself on top of the armrest of the sofa Emma was sitting on as he spoke. Hook’s voice turned into a snarl when he said the man’s name, and she got the impression there was some tension between the two. 

 

“We can’t know that for sure,” Mary Margaret replied. 

 

Regina began to pace slowly. “No, we can’t, but it's the best bet we’ve got.” 

 

Emma sighed. She really didn’t care, but she figured it’d be important to know later, and so she asked, “Who’s Arthur?” 

 

Three pairs of eyes looked to her in disbelief. Only David stared at her like it was a valid question, seeing as how he was probably just as confused as she was. 

 

“You don’t know who Arthur is?” Regina asked, and at any other time, her shock would amuse Emma. 

 

“Does Arthur have a last name?” Emma tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but she knew she was failing. It felt as though every nerve in her body was exposed. She wasn’t unconvinced that if someone breathed the wrong way, it might set her off. 

 

Mary Margaret was also seemingly off put by Emma’s apparent lack of knowledge. “Arthur, as in the Arthur; ruler of demons, keeper of law and order -”

 

“Complete and total sociopath,” Hook muttered from beside her. 

 

Sensing the fact that Emma still had no idea who they were talking about, Regina let out an aggravated sigh. “Do you live under a rock? Even Ms. ‘I sleep in the woods and talk to birds’ knows who Arthur is.” 

 

Emma’s best friend shot Regina a glare. “We should keep in mind that Emma is significantly younger than all of us. She hasn’t been at this for very long, we need to cut her some slack.” 

 

Before Emma could cut in, Regina was speaking again. “Fine. Hook, care to get Ms. Swan up to speed? Seeing as how you were around when Arthur rose to power.”

 

Hook didn’t even spare Regina a sideways glance, attention completely on the woman at his side. “Are you familiar with the Knights of the Round Table?” 

 

Emma nodded absentmindedly. “Sure, I saw Sword in the Stone when I was a kid.” Hook stared at her, waiting for her to catch on. After an embarrassingly long time, she finally did. “Wait, that’s who you’re talking about? The guy who pulled Excalibur from the rock? King Arthur?” 

 

Hook rolled his eyes. “The details of the Excalibur business have been greatly exaggerated by the man himself. But, yes, Arthur, King Arthur, Supreme Overlord Arthur, he has a penchant for titles, not unlike Her Majesty,” Hook winked and Emma allowed him a smile. “Whatever he’s calling himself these days, is now the ruler of all of the demon population.”

 

Emma paused and let that sink in. That was one hell, no pun intended, of a position. “What does that mean exactly? Ruler of the demons?”

 

Hook sighed. “Nothing really; it’s mostly an excuse for him to surround himself with riches and hole himself up in his palace. However, if there’s a serious crime that’s been committed in our community, he steps in to inflict punishment. He’ll occasionally butt in if he thinks that one faction of demons has grown too large and eliminate a few of them. He’s also quite corrupt,” 

 

Emma’s brother laughed. “He’s a demon, isn’t that to be expected?”

 

“We may be an immoral bunch, but we have a code and a certain brand of integrity. We were all angels once too, and if we’ve retained nothing else, we’ve kept that sense of pride.” Hook paused and Emma saw Regina nod out of the corner of her eye. “Arthur is different. If he thinks you’re powerful, he expects you to play by his rules. Not to mention that, not only can his favor be easily bought, but he expects you to do so. It’s amazing the levels that man will stoop to. Unfortunately, his presence is somewhat necessary, because otherwise we’d all be running amuck. Demons lack the ability to police themselves the way angels do I’m afraid.”

 

Hook smiled at Emma and damn him if he wasn’t charming as hell. “All that’s fine, but what would he want with me?” 

 

Hook paused and cocked his head. “Probably has something to do with the rain.” 

 

“What?”   

 

The demon smirked. “When you came to New York to question me, it was raining. It wasn’t supposed to rain that day. It wasn’t supposed to rain today either. You’re doing it.” 

 

Emma stared at him blankly, still lost. “I’m doing what?” 

 

“You’re causing the rain.” 

 

Mary Margaret piped in with “Is that even possible?” 

 

Hook’s eyes did not leave Emma’s face. “I’ve seen it a handful of times, usually in angels much older than you. It requires a great deal of power, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone do it unconsciously.” 

 

Emma crossed her arms in front of her. “It’s probably just a coincidence,” she muttered. 

 

Eyes still on her, Hook shrugged. “Maybe.” 

 

It all happened very quickly after that. One minute Hook was staring at her and the next his hand was extended towards David, and her brother was gasping for air. It took her a millisecond to process that the demon was choking David.

 

She was on him a moment later.

 

The lights surged so brightly, Regina had to shield her eyes. Emma grabbed Hook by the lapels of his jacket and threw him against a marble pillar with so much force that there was a sizable crack. She heard the windows shatter, but she didn’t take her focus off Hook. “Don’t touch him,” she screamed. 

 

She was literally about to end his existence, when Mary Margaret’s voice called her back down to earth. “Emma,” her friend screamed. 

 

Emma looked towards her distress, only to find that her friend was staring at the ground under Emma. The angel looked down and saw one long scorch mark that extended past her in Hook’s direction. “What happened?” she muttered. She looked back towards the windows and realized that all the glass had broken. It wasn’t uncommon for that to happen; when ethereal beings fought, a lot of energy was generated. What was weird about this though was that the glass was on the inside of the building. Normally, it fell on the outside, as the force made pushed everything out and away from whatever creature it was coming from. This made it seem like she’d been pulling something towards her, like something wanted in. 

 

“You were just proving my point,” Hook replied, entirely too smug given that he was laid out across the floor. 

 

Emma started towards him, but Mary Margaret held her back. “Emma, Emma  _ stop _ !”

 

The blonde gestured wildly at Hook, who was standing. “He almost killed David.”

 

Mary Margaret closed her eyes as though she were on the verge of losing it too. “Don’t worry, I intend to address that later.” She shot a pointed look at Hook over her shoulder. Turning her attention back to Emma she asked, “Do you know what happened?”

 

“I knocked Hook on his ass.”

 

Mary Margaret shook her head. “Emma the thunder was so loud it broke the windows. Lightning struck at your feet.”

 

Emma looked back at the scorch marks, dumbfounded. “Lightning?”

 

Apparently Hook had no sense of self-preservation, because he spoke up. “I was right. It was you controlling the weather,” he said as he smirked at her.

 

Emma shoved past her friend and got in the demon’s face. “Don’t go near my brother again.” Her voice was not a yell this time, it was a growl. 

 

The smile slowly dropped from his face as he took in the magnitude of her anger. “Swan, I wasn’t actually going to hurt him.” His voice was low, soft. He was speaking only to her. 

 

She backed up, unwilling to relent. “You really think I’d trust you? A demon?” 

 

Hook stared at her, seemingly hurt and confused. He clearly could not grasp why his actions had made her so upset. She guessed it had something to do with the fact that he’d probably lost any and all ability to care for another soul. Hundreds of years looking out for only yourself will do that. 

 

“I’m billing you for the damage to my office,” Regina called, breaking the silence.

 

Emma huffed and turned away from Hook. “Can we please figure out what we’re doing next?” 

 

The male demon cleared his throat and answered her question. “It seems that there’s only one option.”

 

Emma did not look at him. “And what’s that?” 

 

“We need to go see Arthur.” 

 

**OOO**

 

_ Emma pulled her coat a little tighter around her body. Not for the reasons a woman normally pulls her coat a little tighter around her body, mind you, but because it was January in New York City. The cold didn’t really bother her all that much, but she figured she should at least give the illusion of being human. The shift dress and go-go boots she was wearing didn’t provide much in the way of warmth, and her peacoat was laughably unsuited for the weather. She tucked a piece of her blonde bob behind her ear and continued down the road. It wasn’t a far walk from the Church to her tiny apartment uptown, and she was looking forward to having a good, hard sleep after the day she’d had.  _

 

_ It’s amazing how quickly things can go to hell in a few short blocks.  _

 

_ She felt it before she heard it, a shift in the air that could only mean trouble. She sensed a dark force taint the space around her, and it wasn’t long before a piercing scream had her sprinting towards an alley. She couldn’t see anyone else on the street, and when the screaming stopped the only sound that could be heard were her heels hitting the pavement as she ran.  _

 

_ The scene that greeted her when she finally reached the source of the commotion was as horrific as to be expected. A woman, probably a prostitute given the way she was dressed, had been stabbed several times and left to die in the snow. Her shallow breathing was the only indication that she was still alive. Next to her, a young boy, perhaps six or seven, was clutching her hand and sobbing quietly.  _

 

_ Emma approached the pair cautiously, and when the boy caught sight of her, he looked up with frightened eyes. She could see he was debating on whether or not he should run, but he continued to hold onto his mother for dear life, unwilling to leave her side.  _

 

_ She knew she shouldn’t intervene; it weakened her and using her powers pushed her further down a dark path. She was walking a fine line as it was, and it was slowly beginning to dawn on her that she was most likely going to end up repeating past mistakes.  _

 

_ But she couldn’t let this boy watch his mother die.  _

 

_ Emma pulled off her gloves and kneeled down beside the dying woman. Flexing her fingers, she felt light magic begin to flood her body and emit from her hands. Death wanted the mortal in front of her, but Emma was nothing if not determined, and she wouldn’t let it take her. Having as much power as Emma did came with a few perks; holding death at bay being a major one. _

 

_ The angel and the boy watched as the woman’s wounds slowly closed up and her breathing returned to normal. She was still unconscious, but all that would be left as a reminder of her ordeal was the blood still staining the pavement. She’d have no recollection of what had happened to her, only that she’d passed out. _

 

_ Her son was a different story. _

 

_ Emma looked at over at the boy who was staring her with unhindered wonder. She almost wanted to smile at the pure amazement that was slowly overtaking his features. She’d always had a soft spot for children; they were so untainted by the tragedy of the world, and they believed without fear of disappointment. That was the ultimate pain of her current state; she could never have children. Humans could never know the secret of the divine creatures that stood beside them. The truth had to be protected.  _

 

_ She raised a finger to her lips, a silent warning that no one could know what had happened here.  _

 

_ When the boy mimicked her actions, Emma smiled.  _

 

Emma shot up, gasping for breath. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to expel the images that were haunting her head. Her dream had that same memory like quality as the one she’d experienced a few nights ago. That wasn’t possible though; the time periods were centuries apart if not more. 

 

There was something else too; the boy in her dream had seemed so damn familiar. When he’d done the shushing movement a feeling not unlike dejavu had come over her. She’d seen it before, she’d seen it recently.

 

The homeless man in New York. 

 

He’d seemed so excited to see her, it was as if he’d recognized her, and, apparently, he had. Will had seen him too, so he wasn’t an apparition. He was a real person, and they’d met before. She just had absolutely no recollection of it. 

 

It wasn’t until that moment that Emma realized that something was amiss. She distinctly remembered coming home and falling asleep. It had only been four in the afternoon when she’d gotten back to her house, but the exhaustion had hit her like a freight train. She was certain that Henry would be worried about her, but she’d make up some excuse and he’d be fine. That’s what she’d told herself when she crawled into bed.

 

Except she wasn’t in bed, she was on her couch in the living room. She had no memory of moving, and as she looked down she realized that she was covered in dirt and that her clothes were tattered. “What the hell?” she muttered as she stood up to further examine herself. 

 

If she were human she would’ve missed it entirely; the room was pitch black and without her superhuman vision she wouldn’t have been able to see. She wouldn’t have been able to see the message written on the wall behind the couch. She wouldn’t have been able to see that it was written in a bright scarlet substance. She wouldn’t have been able to see that the substance was the same color as her hands, which were stained red. She wouldn’t have been able to see the words that sent her stomach dropping towards the floor.

 

“Nesir Sah Roivas Eht.”


	7. Off I Go

**_“If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them?” - Jodi Piccolut_ **

 

She was late. Of course she was late. Regina had called her maybe ten times, and Emma had ignored each of those ten calls. It wasn’t like the plane was going to leave without her. 

 

Perks of flying on a private plane she supposed. 

 

She’d thrown a tantrum when Hook had insisted they take his jet to London. She’d flown commercial her whole life and she didn’t see the point in changing that now. Regina had taken Hook’s side, of course. She’d said that there was no way she could handle the two of them  _ and  _ all the common people. Emma had then asked Regina why she was even coming, to which the Queen demon had told her someone needed to make sure they didn’t have a repeat of the Zelena incident. That had made the angel quiet.

 

That was how Emma found herself running through Logan Airport at six in the damn morning about to board a plane with two of her least favorite people. She also felt like she had the world’s biggest hangover, and she hadn’t even been able to enjoy the means of getting to that state. No, she’d spent about two hours scrubbing red paint (it had been paint, thank God) off her wall. She’d then spent the next two hours staring at said wall before it was time to drop Henry off at David’s. The kid could clearly tell something was off, but bless him for not asking questions. 

 

She just wanted to take a nap for the next few years. 

 

So it really wasn’t her fault when she was a little short with the attendant at the gate desk. The woman’s plastic smile really grated on her for some reason, probably because she figured no one should be so happy when the world was clearly going to hell. “Emma Swan?” the woman asked. 

 

Emma sighed and adjusted her blonde curls. “Who else would it be?” 

 

The woman continued to smile, clearly used to people’s frustration being taken out on her. “We’re all set to go. Shall I escort you to the plane?” 

 

“No, I’d much prefer to waste some more time here for a while.” When the attendant just gave her a blank stare, Emma continued. “Lead the way.” 

 

The human gave her a cheery nod and took her bag before Emma could say anything. The pair quickly made their way outside into the cold Boston air where a shiny jet was waiting. She rolled her eyes and pulled out a pair of black sunglasses from her purse as she climbed the steps. 

 

Stopping suddenly, she took in the spacious interior. Regina was chattering away on her cellphone in the first row, where a large tv was mounted on the wall. Hook was a few feet back on a large white couch thumbing through a newspaper. The floors were hardwood, and there were several more spaces for sitting down. “This is a different plane.” 

 

Hook looked up from his paper and gave her his infamous smirk. “You’re very observant this morning, aren’t you, Swan?” 

 

Emma huffed out a breath and moved towards him. “How many planes do you have?” 

 

His smile grew. “A few. This one happens to be my favorite.” 

 

The angel rolled her eyes. “You have a favorite plane?” 

 

“Yes, this one is a Gulfstream G550.”

 

The angel crossed her arms over her body, staring at him over the top of her sunglasses. “I don’t speak plane… or rich people, for that matter.” 

 

Hook raised an eyebrow and ran his eyes over her form. “No, I don’t imagine you do. It has the capability to fly 6,750 nautical miles, and was one of the original jets in the ultra-long-range class.” Hook looked around the cabin with a critical expression as he added, “it’s a bit outdated at this point, I’m looking to update, but it gets the job done.” 

 

Emma let out a low humming noise like she was following anything he was saying. “How much does it cost to run this thing?” She asked as she waved down a stewardess carrying a tray of champagne. She wouldn’t normally drink this early in the morning, but she’d already been up for several hours. There was also a time change from Boston to London, so where she was going it was later. Plus she really just needed a damn drink after the morning she’d had.

 

She could just say that the demons were having a negative effect on her  if all else failed. 

 

Without any hesitation, Hook said, “About seven thousand dollars an hour.” 

 

In all of her abundant elegance, Emma proceeded to choke on the alcohol she’d been downing and spit it all over the floor. She’d figured it’d be expensive, but she couldn’t even fathom that amount of money being blown in only a few short hours. Just how much was Hook worth?

 

“Can you pull it together for five minutes, Ms. Swan? Your lack of decorum is astounding,” Regina quipped from the front of the plane. 

 

Emma curtseyed and shot the Queen a sneer as she turned back to Hook. “Seven grand? Seriously?” When Hook nodded, always smiling, she shut her eyes. “I’m going to need another drink.”

 

Hook, ever the gentleman, offered up his own amber alcohol. “Ask and you shall receive.” There was a hint of a challenge in his voice, daring her to take it and not expecting her to do just that. 

 

She’d throw herself into the fiery depths of hell before she ever backed down, particularly where he was concerned. Emma took the glass from him and downed the rest of it. Rum, per usual. Placing the glass down, she took a final look around the cabin before sitting next to him, much to his apparent surprise. “I’m naming the plane Irv to cope with this,” she informed him. 

 

It was his turn to sputter like a fish on land as the smile dropped from his face. “Absolutely not.” 

 

Emma laughed and settled in. “I didn’t ask for your permission.”

 

“You are not naming my plane something as undignified as Irv! If you insist upon naming it, it needs to be something strong,” he shot back, sounding as though she’d just murdered his first born. 

 

Emma toed off her boots, Hook’s outrage only making her more at ease. “Nah, I think I like Irv.” She pulled her legs underneath herself, sitting criss-cross on the white couch. She patted the wall of the jet and didn’t take her eyes off his face as she said, “Good old, Irv.” 

 

“I’m also likin’ Irv,” a familiar voice called out. 

 

Emma whipped her head around to find Will Scarlet emerging from the bathroom. She wasn’t sure why, but she was actually mildly pleased to see him. Will’s total and complete “lack of decorum”, as Regina had put it, nearly rivaled her own, and that put her at ease. “Scarlet, it’s good to see you again.” 

 

Will did a little jig and gave her an exaggerated bow. “Milady,” he quipped as he tipped a faux hat. “Glad to see you again too. I wasn’t quite sure we’d be runnin’ into each other again, which woulda been a real shame, given how nicely we work together.” Will then proceeded to pick up two glasses of champagne from the stewardess in the back of the jet and give one to Emma. “See ya two are getting along a bit better,” he said as he looked back and forth between her and Hook, one eyebrow raised.

 

Emma, who had no idea what he was referring to, followed his line of sight to her and Hook’s shoulders, which were firmly pressed against one another. She hadn’t even realized the lack of space between them, and quickly shifted so that she was further away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered at the same time that Hook shot, “we aren’t.” 

 

From the front of the plane, she heard Regina snort in a decidedly un-regal way. “That was ridiculously unconvincing, especially for you Hook.” 

 

Hook stood and shot her a glare, but chose to ignore the comment. “I’m going to go tell the pilot we’re ready to go. Everyone should get comfortable.” 

 

Will moved into the spot Hook had just relinquished. “So, you two are gettin’ along then.” 

 

Emma pulled off her sunglasses and rolled her eyes. “No,” she said and she heard Regina snort again. “We’ve just been spending a lot of time together, which means we have to be civil.” 

 

Will looked at her like he wasn’t buying anything that she was saying. “Seems ya two are quite  _ civil _ . He’s not all that bad lookin’.” 

 

She stared at him in disbelief. “You and I are not seriously having this conversation, are we? I barely know you!” 

Will huffed in annoyance. “You know me; we took a lovely trip to New York together.”

 

“Not by choice.” 

 

“Details. Point is, we’re friends, you and I can talk about this stuff.” Will stood and moved so that he was sitting next to Regina. Not quite done with the conversation, he turned back to look at her and quickly added, “and don’t think I missed the fact that you didn’t deny he wasn’t bad lookin’,” before turning away. 

 

If Emma could still blush she would have. Instead, she fixed her eyes forward and sipped at her champagne. Whatever rum Hook had been drinking had been good stuff, she could feel it loosening her up already.

 

Hook emerged from the cockpit, speak of the devil, no pun intended, and made his way back over to her. “Champagne treating you nicely, Swan?” He sat down next to her, keeping a distance between them. 

 

Emma hummed affirmatively. “The rum wasn’t too bad either. Hopefully it’ll help me get through this flight.” 

 

Hook looped his hands behind his head, looking quite content. “Won’t be that bad. Just take a nap and we’ll be there right quick.” 

 

Emma froze up, her blood turning to ice in her veins. He couldn’t possibly know how much the simple prospect of falling asleep scared her, and she didn’t want him to. “I’m actually quite rested, so you know, I’ll probably just  _ chill.  _ Or something,” she shrugged, failing miserably at appearing nonchalant. 

 

Hook stared at her. He stared at her for a very long time. So long, in fact, that Emma began to squirm under his gaze. She thought he’d call her out, she could tell he knew. Instead, he just nodded and gave her a tight smile. “Very well,” he said. “Do whatever it is you need to do.” With no warning he stood up from the couch and made his way to a bar in back to refill his glass. 

 

Emma stared at him as he began to make small talk with the stewardess. The woman was clearly a demon, there was no other angelic presence on the plane other than her own. She watched the petite redhead bat her eyelashes at him and swat his arm playfully. 

 

It shouldn’t bother her, she knew that.

 

But it did.

 

She didn’t know why. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know why either. They had both made it expressly clear that they weren’t close. She wasn’t sure she’d even call him a friend. 

 

Emma watched the stewardess push herself up against Hook and felt her stomach twist in knots. 

 

Tipping her champagne back into her throat, she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

 

**OOO**

 

Emma’s first impression of jolly old England wasn’t exactly a positive one. 

 

Granted, she was in a pissy mood when they landed, having been hovering between sleep and wake for the last 6 hours. Everyone else had slept for the majority of the flight, but she had been too petrified of what might happen if she allowed herself to drift off. She had probably been amusing to watch, given that every half hour or so she’d find herself succumbing to sleep only to jolt up like she’d been electrocuted. Hook had caught her once, and while he’d shot her a questioning look, he still hadn’t asked. 

 

It was raining when they landed, and while Emma assumed it was just typical London weather, she couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t her newly discovered weather party trick. Judging by the way Regina was staring at her with a judgmental look, she suspected that could be a part of it. Then again, when was Regina not shooting her a judgmental look? 

 

She noticed the two black Range Rovers waiting for them on the tarmac as they deplaned, and turned to raise an eyebrow at Will, who was coming down the steps behind her. 

 

“Probably Hook’s,” he shrugged, and she could tell he was as in the dark about their plan of action as she was. 

 

Emma watched as Hook, who was leading them off the plane, made a beeline to one of the cars, where a man in a red cap was waiting. “You all remember -”

 

“Smee,” Emma finished for him as she stopped in front of the demon. “Nice to see you again.” 

 

Smee didn’t even spare her a glance. “You didn’t tell me a bird was coming, Sir.” 

 

Hook, who had been staring at Emma for the entire conversation, turned and looked at the man with unbridled outrage. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t under the impression that it was me who was reporting to you? Have you forgotten who’s in charge?”

 

Another demon, who had been standing off to the side, one that Emma didn’t recognize, spoke up. “Well sir, maybe if you hadn’t been wasting time in Boston we wouldn’t have forgotten.” 

 

There was always a moment of pure and absolute calm before the chaos hit. It was a moment of silence, of peace, that Emma had yet to experience anywhere else. Whenever it happened, she felt an almost euphoric high. She was certain that was a bad thing, that it said something about her character that she felt the best when the world was at its worst. She really was a horrible angel.  

 

Emma felt that euphoria as she watched Hook turn to stare at the demon. It was only when she felt darkness saturate the air that she realized things were about to go horribly wrong. 

 

Hook seemed to make a split second decision, one Emma had no time to react to, and swung out his arm, sinking his hook deep into the man’s neck. He dug in deep, making sure to twist it around before quickly pulling it out. Hook stepped back as black blood, characteristic of a demon, began to pour from his subordinate’s neck. 

 

Emma looked on in mute horror as the demon clutched at his neck before falling to the ground, dead. She then proceeded to stare at the body for what felt like hours as Hook wiped his weapon off with a handkerchief he pulled from his back pocket. 

 

It was Will who took it upon himself to fill in the silence. Turning to Regina he smirked and said, “I thought you were bad.” 

 

Regina, who had been watching the whole situation unfold with apparent disinterest, hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder. “Mouth off like he did and I can assure you I’m much worse,” she replied, boredom leaking into her voice. “Shall we go.” 

 

Emma looked up, her tranquility and subsequent shock were quickly giving way to rage. “Are you kidding me? What about the body?”

 

Hook stared at her, confusion and annoyance on his face. “What about it?” 

 

Emma stared at him, exasperated at his actions over the past twenty four hours. “You can’t just leave it here! Isn’t there someone we can call? His family?” 

 

Hook regarded her with a neutral expression. “He doesn’t have any family.” 

 

The angel huffed in reply. “I’m sure there’s someone who cares about him.” 

 

He smiled at her, as if he were enjoying her frustration. Maybe he just liked arguing with her. “There’s no one. Besides, anyone who has any sort of kind words to say about him, and I assure you, there are none, work for me. Considering I just killed him, people aren’t going to be lining up to attend a funeral. We’ll leave the body here, someone will dispose of it.” 

 

Emma was about to shout at him, scream at him, ask him why he didn’t get it. Instead, she let her shoulders slump. He was clearly past reasoning with. Instead, she moved to grab the dead man’s shoulders and began to tug. 

 

Hook did little to hide his surprise. “What are you doing?”

 

Emma didn’t look up from her task. She pulled the body along the asphalt easily; her angelic strength making the bulky man seem light as a feather. “You made it clear that anyone who is afraid of you isn’t going to do anything,” she spat. 

 

He was evidently still confused. “Aye, so what are you doing?” 

 

Emma looked up to meet his gaze. “Doing something.” 

 

Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. His face shifted into a sneer, and he grabbed her by the shoulder, yanking her upright. His hand remained squeezing her shoulder as he whispered, “You seem to be under the idiotic assumption that there’s a way to skirt around violence in this world. I don’t know how things work in the world of birds, but let me clear something up for you, for us,” Hook looked at Regina, Will, and Smee. “Killing is a necessity. If you don’t assert your dominance, you die. If you show weakness, you die. If you allow people to tread on you in any way shape or form, you die. Get it?”

 

Emma shook him off. He clearly hadn’t learned that she wasn’t one to be easily deterred. That, and she absolutely despised being talked down to. “I may not be as old as you, but I’m not stupid. I know about the ins and outs of the ethereal world, and  _ believe me _ , things aren’t sunshine and lollipops on the other side of the fence either. I know it’s kill or be killed. Doesn’t mean you need to enjoy it. Doesn’t mean that you can’t feel bad about ending a life.”

 

Hook stepped back, and it was one of those rare instances where he seemed unsure. “You don’t know what kind of person he was,” he muttered. 

 

He was right, there was no denying it. But so was she, and so she asked, “Do you? Do you know who his parents were, because at some point he had them. Do you know if he had siblings? Maybe a dog? Hell, he could’ve been married. Do you know the answers to any of those questions? He was a person before you decided he was nothing.” Emma paused. She usually liked to attribute behavior like this to her angelic side, but this was different. This was different and she wanted him to see that. “If it were you what would you want?” She knew what his answer would be before he even said it, but she tried anyway. 

 

Sure enough, he didn’t disappoint. “I don’t deserve -“

 

She interrupted him. “Look I know you’ve done some messed up stuff, but your crippling self-hatred aside, what would you  _ want?”  _ She needed him to know that this wasn’t just about this specific man. This was about any loss of life and the tragedy it symbolized. She needed him to know that even for people like him, people like her, there would at least be someone to take care of things at the very end. “I’m burying him.”

 

Emma went back to dragging the body across the tarmac, trying to get to the grass a little ways away. She watched as the black blood smeared against the pavement and, whether it was her doing or not, she was grateful for the rain. She wasn’t sure how long it would take for his body to lose its ethereal power, and become similar to that of a normal human. At the very least she knew it would decompose eventually. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t even hear him approaching. 

 

His voice was so quiet that even she had to strain to hear him. She didn’t think he whispered out of shame, but rather so that she would be the only one who could hear. “I cannot be seen as weak.”

 

Emma let the body fall for a moment as she straightened up to really look at him. There was something in his face that looked apologetic, but she had a sense it was more for her sake than his. She knew what he thought of her. That she was perfect, a beacon of moral behavior. The fallen all thought that about angels, that they had no spine and had never experienced true struggle, because if they had surely they would’ve embraced the dark. So Emma met his eyes and allowed her voice to drop into a whisper as well. “There are worse things than that.” 

 

He didn’t say anything this time, and for that she was grateful. Hook looked on as she made her way to the edge of the tarmac, being careful to avoid the blood on the ground. God forbid he get his shoes dirty. Come to think of it, they were probably worth more than Emma’s life. 

 

The angel laid the dead demon carefully on the wet earth. Her boots dug ever so slightly into the mud, and she was grateful the ground was soft; it would make digging easier. 

 

“You don’t have a shovel,” Hook remarked ever so helpfully.

 

Emma gave him an exasperated look. “Thank you, for that wonderful observation. Nothing gets past you, does it? I’ll just use my hands.” 

 

It was his turn to look put out. She half expected him to chastise her in his usual patronizing tone, but instead he moved past her towards the body. With no explanation, he pulled out the handkerchief he’d used earlier to wipe the blood off his hook. It was stained a dark black color. He looked over at her expectantly. “Go on then,” he commanded.

 

Emma was absolutely sure he had lost it. Regina had warned her before she’d met him that he was unhinged. “What?” 

 

Hook looked at her like he was amazed she remembered how to breath. “Set it alight,” he said like it was the most obvious thing. 

 

“What?” Emma repeated. 

He let his arm drop for a moment. “Set the damn thing alight. I’m not going to have you rolling about in the mud; you’ll get the car dirty, so we’ll just burn the body.”

 

Emma quirked an eyebrow. “You want to cremate him?” She asked slowly.

 

Hook nodded, seemingly pleased she was finally getting the point, or, maybe he was just happy he’d come up with the idea. Probably the latter. “And since heat and light are your kind’s area of expertise,” he explained as he dangled the handkerchief in front of her face once more. 

 

There was something in his eyes, an almost earnest look, that kept her from arguing with him. He seemed to be trying to appease her, in his own unique way. He was trying to understand where she was coming from, and while there were still issues between them, she wouldn’t ignore the gesture. So, with a pronounced eye-roll, she twitched her fingers and the cloth went up in flames. 

 

Hook quickly tossed it onto his former employee’s body, and soon enough his cotton t-shirt also caught fire. “Satisfied?” 

 

Emma watched as the fire quickly worked its way up the demon’s body. Emma’s magic was strong, so the rain did little to dampen the flames. She didn’t meet his eyes as she croaked out a “yes,” before turning and marching back towards Regina and Will. “Let’s go,” she called. 

 

The angel hadn’t realized the rain had picked up until Regina was staring at her pissed and soaking. “What? You two don’t want to continue your little melodrama? Perhaps we should go roast marshmallows over his burning body and sing Kumbaya!”

 

“I told you to wait in the car,” Will muttered under his breath, but it was loud enough for Regina to hear, and she shot him a withering look. 

 

“You work for me, Scarlet, so I’d be careful what you say next.” 

 

Emma pushed past the two of them. “Let’s just go to the hotel,” she called as she yanked the car door open. 

 

From behind her, Regina let out a sharp laugh. “Ms. Swan, I wasn’t under the impression that you were staying at the hotel with us.” 

 

Emma paused and maybe it was the exhaustion, but Regina’s words weren’t making any sense. “What are you talking about?” 

 

The Queen smirked at her and Emma was briefly reminded of those girls who used to make fun of her in high school for wearing the same thing everyday. “I wasn’t aware you could afford to stay at Claridge’s, and on such short notice too. I guess they’re paying Boston PD better than I assumed.” 

 

Emma was in front of Regina in, literally, a flash, rage flooding her veins as the demon’s words clicked. “You didn’t book me a damn hotel room? Anywhere?!” 

 

Regina stepped forward to meet her, still maintaining her superior facade. “I’m not your personal assistant, Ms. Swan. It’s not my job to find you accommodations.” 

 

Emma let out a disbelieving laugh and as she readied herself to give Regina the smackdown she deserved, but Hook was in between them before she could. 

 

“No reason to go at it ladies,” he purred in a voice Emma suspected was usually reserved for getting human’s to do his bidding.

 

“Can’t say I’m surprised really. Ms. Swan’s complete and utter inability to show any degree of competency is all too familiar at this point.” 

 

Emma reared up, but this time Hook physically restrained her. “Let me kick her ass,” Emma argued, and she knew she could probably get away from him, but she stopped herself for the moment. 

 

Hook moved so that his lips were at her ear, his head turned away from Will and Regina. “Not worth it, Swan, as much as I wouldn't mind seeing that. Just go get in the car.” 

 

She felt his grip loosen and she debated just lunging at Regina. She didn't want to do any permanent damage, obviously, Henry would be pissed, but she wouldn’t mind smacking her upside the head. Nevertheless, she heeded Hook’s words and slowly backed towards the car. She was sure she looked childish, but she kept her eyes on Regina, and it took everything in her not to do the “I’m-watching-you” sign. 

 

Emma waited impatiently in the Range Rover, her knee bouncing up and down as Hook exchanged words with Regina and Will. Smee was in the driver’s seat, watching her with calculating eyes in the rearview mirror. 

 

“I don’t like you,” he said suddenly.

 

She didn’t turn to meet his gaze. “How will I live?” She replied dryly. 

 

Smee turned around in his seat so that he was facing her head on. They then proceeded to engage in a staring contest for a good minute and a half before he spoke again. “I don’t like you, and I don’t like whatever is going on between you and my leader, but, all that aside, I respect you.” Emma’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the little demon continued. “I respect you for what you did for Hank.” 

 

Emma nodded, suddenly understanding. “He’s the one who died?”

 

Smee faced forward again, not saying anything. “I don’t like you, but I respect you.” 

 

Emma wasn’t quite sure what to say, and judging by what she could see of Smee’s facial expression in the mirror, she sensed the conversation was over. So, instead she said, “Tell me something, because I’m curious, how do your tiny little legs even reach the gas pedal in this thing?”

 

Smee smiled.

 

**OOO**

 

She was in his house. 

 

When he’d informed her all too casually that she’d stay at his place, she’d vehemently rejected the idea. They’d been blurring the imaginary line she’d drawn between them since Lily’s, and now he was proposing they just skip right over it. She wasn’t sure when he’d decided to throw all the rules out the window, but she wasn’t about to allow it. 

 

He kindly told her that she could spend the night on a bench in Hyde Park if she wanted, since she had no other options. She’d almost done that, but it was still raining pretty heavily and she wasn’t in the mood to be both exhausted and soaking. 

 

So now she was in his fucking house. 

 

It was a beautiful home, although she’d expect nothing less from Mr. “I’m-looking-to-expand-my-fleet-of-private-jets-because-my-current-one-is-too-small.” He lived in Kensington in a big white terraced house, well, technically, four white terraced houses that were all connected. He owned the entire block. Which was completely normal and average and she was handling it all very well. 

 

By very well she meant she was not handling it at all,  _ at all.  _

 

Granted, she knew that Regina liked luxury, but she was quickly discovering that was apparently a characteristic of creatures of the dark. The property wasn’t what she would’ve expected for a demon, and, more specifically, for him. It was a very bright space, with floor to ceiling windows and white walls. Every room that she’d been in had a massive fireplace, and various trinkets that he must’ve collected over the years were scattered about the house. She couldn’t imagine how much that stuff was worth. 

 

It did, however, feel a lot like a museum. The place lacked a warmth that she’d come to recognize in most homes. In fact, it was oddly reminiscent of Lily’s apartment save for the difference in opulence. There were no photos, nothing was out of place, and the entire house was the temperature of a morgue. Someone existed in this space, but it wasn’t truly lived in. “When was the last time you were here?” Emma asked as she stared at a painting hanging above the fireplace in one of the sitting rooms. It was an odd piece, a bunch of different colored blobs spread out on a canvas. She did her best to ignore the name scribbled in the bottom right corner, because, if it had truly been painted by him, it likely cost upwards of a million dollars. 

 

Hook, who had been standing in the hallway texting someone, entered the room. “Couldn’t tell you. I spend most of my time in and out of hotels on business,” he called from behind her. The demon paused, and she could practically feel the smirk forming on his face. “Or pleasure.” 

 

Emma rolled her eyes and moved to run her finger across a golden telescope on the mantle. “What is it that you do?” 

 

“I’m an investor,” Hook said much too quickly. Emma turned to see him standing there, scratching at his ear, looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

 

It was her turn to smile. “For someone who pretends to be as confident as you do, you sure don’t like to talk about yourself.” 

 

He shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Let me show you to your room, I already had your bag put upstairs.”

 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

 

Hook shot her a disbelieving look. “Nonsense, Swan. It was the least I could do,” he said before he exited the room.

 

She was certain his mood changes were going to give her whiplash one of these days. Pulling her purse higher on her shoulder, she followed him down the hallway. With each room they passed, she made sure to peek inside where doors were open. Maybe something in them would finally clue her in as to what game he was playing. They made their way to the end of the hall, and he slowly began to make his way up a staircase. 

 

“That,” he pointed to a painting hanging above the stair landing. “Was done by my brother.” 

 

Emma stopped walking and felt the breath rush out of her lungs. It seemed to have been off-hand comment, but Hook never struck her as the type to give up personal details. “You have a brother?” She whispered.

 

Hook didn’t meet her eyes, and he tensed up as he seemingly realized that he had just revealed something deeply personal about himself. “I had a brother,” he breathed. 

 

The middle of the stairs wasn’t really the ideal place to be having this conversation, but she couldn’t drop it. “What happened to him?” Their voices were so low they weren’t audible to human ears. 

 

Hook gave her a tight smile and looked up at the painting. “The same thing that happens to all of them.” 

 

It all made sense to her then. Why he was so blunt about Henry’s fate on that first plane ride, why he promised David to keep her safe at Lily’s, even when he insisted that he would never hurt her brother. She had known that he’d probably experienced loss during his many years, they all had at one point or another, but this was different. He’d had a brother. “You know firsthand how fragile humans are,” she reiterated, more to herself than him.

 

“I wasn't talking about humans,” he replied, interrupting her train of thought. Without another word he turned and walked the rest of the way up the stairs. 

 

Emma paused, trying to make sense of his words. Realizing that he was moving very quickly down the hallway, and that she didn’t want to get lost in his gigantic house, she raced after him. “What do you mean? Who were you talking about?” She shouted. 

 

He stopped abruptly in front of a door on the right and she almost bumped into him. He didn’t speak as he produced a key from his back pocket and shoved it into the door. Swinging it open he looked pointedly at her as he said, “I was talking about the good.” 

 

**OOO**

Emma stared at the ceiling.

 

There was a tiny crack in the crown molding in the far right corner. Directly above her there was a dark smudge and the paint was slightly chipped, as though someone had thrown something up there. The chandelier, which had probably been connected to a gas line, had six white bulbs, one of which appeared to be slightly loose. 

 

She’d knew all this because she’d been staring at it for nearly six hours, having completely familiarized herself with the layout of the room. It was a beautiful space, with big, ornate looking couches and a large four-poster white bed that was the most comfortable thing she’d laid on in a long time. If only she could fall asleep.

 

It was three in the damn morning, and she was wide awake. 

 

She was just trying to do her civic duty and make sure that she didn’t murder anyone while she slept. Such a good Samaritan. Letting out a sigh, she swung her legs out of the bed and stood up. If she was forced to stay awake she might as well poke around a bit. She was sure Hook would object to it, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

 

Emma allowed light magic to pour through her hand, using it as a makeshift flashlight to guide her way down the hallway. She was surprised at how many paintings lined the wall; she wouldn’t have pegged him as an art snob. A vast majority were nautically themed, and she vaguely wondered if perhaps he’d been a sailor at some point in his life. Moving quickly through the darkness, she made her way over the stairwell, and creeped down slowly. She wasn’t sure what part of the house his bedroom was in, and she didn't want to risk waking him up. When she reached the bottom floor, she proceeded to wander around aimlessly, occasionally pausing to examine some sort of bauble. Eventually, she found her way into the kitchen, which she could only assume from the quiet, but familiar, hum of a refrigerator. Emma decided that perhaps she’d indulge in a late night snack, at the very least she could try and find his undoubtedly expensive stash of alcohol. She felt along the wall, searching for a light switch. Angels heightened senses were dulled ever so slightly in the dark, so it took her a little longer than usual. After what felt like an eternity, she finally found it, smiling as she flicked it on. 

 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Hook called.

 

Emma shot up and let out a startled yelp. He was leaning against the kitchen counter wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with an amused expression on his face. She closed her eyes and tried to get her heartbeat under control as she muttered, “Don’t do that.” 

 

Hook held up his hand and hook in mock surrender. “I figured you knew I was here.” 

 

Emma’s shoulders sagged as she finally calmed down. She made her way over to the nearest cabinet, undeterred in her hunt for food. “Yeah, well I didn’t.” Pausing, she looked over her shoulder at him. “Is it possible that I could be growing used to your presence? We have been spending an inordinate amount of time together.”

 

Hook chuckled quietly. “Perhaps. I haven't spent enough time with your kind to know if that’s a thing that occurs.” 

 

The angel nodded and opened the cupboard, annoyed to find it empty. She quickly moved on to the refrigerator to find it equally as barren. “What the hell?” She shot Hook an annoyed look, demanding an explanation.

 

“Why would I stock my house with foods I can’t eat?” He shrugged and took a sip of rum out of a glass Emma hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

 

Emma huffed and moved so that she was leaning against the counter next to him. “You can still eat food, you just can't really taste all that much of it. It’s good to keep up with the habit.” 

 

Hook twirled the glass around in his hand, so that the amber liquid spun at the bottom. “Yes, well, I don’t have anyone living with me who would need access to human food, nor do I have any need maintain that habit. Rum, on the other hand, has proven to still be a necessity.”

 

The angel paused, unsure how to respond. Smirking, she plucked the glass from his hand and hoisted herself up onto the counter, so that she was now sitting on it. “Were you a sailor?” 

 

Hook’s head whipped around quickly to look at her. “Why do you ask?” 

 

Emma placed the glass against her lips. “You have a lot of pictures of boats, and, well, there’s your affinity for rum,” she pointed out before tipping the liquid into her mouth. 

 

Hook looked away from her. “I suppose you could say that,” he replied. There was a long silence, as he appeared to be debating with himself, and then, “my brother and I were in the Royal Navy.” 

 

She nearly choked on her drink. “You were what?” She was surprised at how much she was discovering about him over the course of a few hours. Emma had no idea what had prompted him to open up, but she wasn’t about to tell him to stop. 

 

He gave her a tight smile and swallowed nervously, still not meeting her gaze. “Aye, he was Captain of a ship in the Queen’s Navy, The Jewel of the Realm. I was Lieutenant.” 

 

Emma couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at the thought of him wearing a navy uniform. “You were a lieutenant in the Navy?”

 

He finally looked over at her, and while he looked affronted, he was smiling. “And a damn good one at that. Does that surprise you, Swan?”

 

Emma let out a very unladylike snort. “No, of course not. You, in the Navy, that’s exactly what I would expect given what I know about you.” Her amusement was short-lived, however, as a new thought popped into her head. He couldn’t have been older than thirty when he died, and she knew that six hundred years ago they probably enlisted them young, but there was a good chance that’s how he’d met his end. “Did you die while you were serving?”  

 

Hook paused, and she was sure he wasn’t going to tell her anything else. Instead, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Quickly, so quickly the words blurred together, he gave her his answer. “I was born in 1350, right at the beginning of what’s now commonly referred to as the Hundred Years War. My brother and I joined the Navy when we were teenagers, and worked our way up from there. In 1372 I fought in the Battle of La Rochelle, it was a huge navy battle and we were slaughtered. That’s when I lost my hand.” He stopped then, drawing in another breath. 

 

She could tell this was where things were about to take a turn. Without thinking, she reached forward and grabbed his hand, which was curled into a fist. She held on until he loosened up just enough so that she could intertwine their fingers together. Giving him a reassuring squeeze, she waited until he was ready to continue. 

 

“Western Europe was in complete and total chaos. The Black Death had wiped out a large part of the population, and taxes were high because of the war. The peasants were hit the hardest, as they always are, and they decided to take action. They rebelled and tried to kill anyone they thought was associated with the royal government. I thought,” he cut himself off then, sighing heavily. “Liam, my brother, told me that it was our duty to protect those under our care, the very same people that were being targeted. He died trying to save as many people as he could. I was turned into this.” 

 

Hook didn’t say anything, and Emma started rubbing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. She was having trouble processing his words, the sheer magnitude of what he was telling her weighing heavy on her heart. To lose your life and your humanity was one thing, but to lose the only family you had was an entirely different ballgame. She wanted to know when he’d become a demon, but she recognized now wasn’t the time. So instead she asked the most important question she had. “Why are you telling me all this?”

 

He finally looked at her, and he really  _ looked.  _ There was something else in his eyes too, a softness that she’d never seen there prior to this moment. He cocked his head and, in spite of it all, he smirked at her. “What you said a while back, in Regina’s office, about not being able to trust me; it shouldn’t have bothered me.” The smile dropped from his face as his tone became deadly serious. “It shouldn’t have, but it did. I’m not pretending to be a good person, and I’m not saying you should, but I’d like you to feel that you can trust me.”

 

Emma had completely forgotten she’d even said that. She mulled over his words, and she knew he wasn’t expecting a response, but she found she wanted to give him one. “Hey, I know what I said, but I do trust you, Hook. When push comes to shove, I know you’ve got my back. Believe it or not, you’re one of the few people that I feel comfortable opening up to.” She paused then, and this time she was the one smiling. “But lay a hand on my brother again, and I’m gonna have to kill you.” 

 

Hook rewarded her with a laugh. “Understood and respected.” 

 

Seeking to change the subject, she asked, “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

 

Hook bristled visibly. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for an encounter with Mr. Supremely Delusional, but I also reckon I don’t have much of a choice. See what you drag me into,” he tacked on with a very forced smile. 

 

“You two know each other?”

 

It was becoming quite apparent this was a subject he wasn’t interested in discussing, but he humored her nonetheless. “We’ve bumped into each other a few times, none of our encounters ended very well. He used to have a working relationship with the man who taught me my mind trick.” 

 

It took Emma a moment to understand what he was referring to, and when she finally grasped that he was talking about his ability to inflict mental torture, she was understandably surprised. “Someone taught you that skill?” 

 

Hook grimaced. “Aye, Love, even the most skilled protege needs a teacher. He was a nasty demon,  _ very  _ powerful. I can’t overstate that. He saw something in me, I guess, and took me under his wing. Taught me everything I know, although I’m not sure why. He never did anything like that again, as far as I know.”

 

“What happened?” 

She didn’t really know what she expected, only that whatever had happened had clearly been bad.  

 

The demon’s jaw flexed and his expression shifted into one Emma had never seen before.  “We had a falling out, the details of which are unimportant. It’s a story for another time.” With that, he sent a clear message; the conversation was over. Maybe not forever, but at least for now. 

 

She was never one to be forthcoming with sentiment, but he’d told her a lot, and it only seemed fair to give him something. Emma knew she shouldn’t tell him. She shouldn’t tell anyone. Yet, she’d just said herself that she trusted him, and for some strange reason she believed it. She knew that he wouldn’t tell anyone else, that he wouldn’t give her up. They weren’t friends, not really, but they understood each other. It was that mutual understanding that prompted her to say, “I had another dream, or, memory. That’s what they are; memories.” She was sure of that now, that she was reliving moments from some past life she couldn’t remember. “I met this homeless guy in New York when I came to find you, and I just gave him some money but he seemed to recognize me. Then he cropped up in my dream except he was just a kid and I was wearing some weird 1960’s-esque outfit which is odd because that would mean-“

 

“That you were having a memory from the 1960’s,” Hook interrupted. He was nodding slowly to himself, seemingly lost in thought. 

 

Emma shook her head vehemently, not wanting it to be true.“But that’s not possible because I wasn’t alive during the 1960’s. Then I woke up and I was covered in dirt and I’d written on my wall in red paint Nesir Sah Roivas Eht.” Every time she closed her damn eyes she kept seeing that message. It was killing her that she didn’t know what it meant; Hook, Regina, and Google Translate had all confirmed that it wasn’t written in a foreign language, so what the hell was it? 

 

“The message we keep seeing at all the crime scenes.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes and let out a humorless laugh.“Yes, thank you for reiterating all of these things,” she muttered before continuing. “So now I’m scared to close my eyes because what if I’m the one doing all this, what if I’m the killer?”

 

Hook turned to look at her, and he seemed genuinely concerned. “When was the last time you slept?”

 

The question, not in line with the rest of the conversation, took her off guard.“What?” 

 

“When was the last time you slept, and I mean a good, hard, restful sleep? That’s what you need.” 

 

Emma scoffed. “Did you not just hear what I was saying?”

 

She hadn’t realized that they were still holding hands, that she was clutching onto him like a life line, until he was tugging her off the counter. “Come on then,” he commanded as he dragged her down the hallway.

 

“Where are we going?” 

 

“To your room,” he answered like it was obvious. 

 

Emma stopped walking, he wasn’t listening. “Hook-“

 

He interrupted her by giving a sharp tug. “I will sit on the chair and watch you to make sure you don’t do anything psychotic,” he explained quickly.  

 

Emma raised an eyebrow, voice dropping with disbelief. “You’re going to watch me sleep?” 

 

“In a very non-creepy way, of course.” He gave her a patronizing smile as he quickly added, “I’ll make sure you don’t murder anyone.” 

 

With that the two headed the rest of the way up the stairs, Emma still confused at his ever shifting moods. She knew she wasn’t useful without any sleep, and she was loathe to admit that having him there might finally be enough to get her to rest. At least then she wouldn’t be so damn afraid of herself. 

 

He dropped her hand when they entered her room, and she was surprised by the sudden coldness she felt at the lack of touch. She watched as he made his way over to one of the couches in the corner, and she hadn’t realized how uncomfortable they looked until now.“You can sit on the bed,” she muttered as she herself got under the covers. 

 

It was Hook’s turn to be surprised. “What?” The disbelief in his voice was almost comical. 

 

“You can sit on the bed.” She didn’t like the idea of him literally studying her while she slept, and with him on the couch that’s very much what it felt like. However, she also realized it would be breaking a lot of the boundaries that had been set up between them, so she added, “It’s a very big space, we won’t have to touch or anything, and you can stay on top of the covers. It’ll be more comfortable… for you.”

 

Hook smiled, seemingly on to her. “If you’re scared you can just tell me, Swan.”

 

“I’m not scared.” She was. She didn’t want him to know that, obviously, but he read her like an open book, so it wasn’t hard for him to figure out she was lying. 

 

He didn’t call her out, the gentleman that he was. “Of course not.” Hook positioned himself so that he was sitting up against the headboard on top of the covers. His eyes scanned the room before landing on her, a lazy smirk on his face. 

 

She would never admit it to him, but he really was beautiful, particularly when he wasn’t being insufferable. Suddenly, she was exhausted, the weight of the past few days slamming into her like a freight train. She couldn’t explain why his presence made her feel more at ease, she only knew that her eyes were finally drifting closed. “Goodnight, Killian.” 

 

All she heard was a sharp intake of breath and a soft “Goodnight, Emma,” before sleep claimed her.  


	8. Don't Think Twice, It's Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back after 90 years. Thank you to @lenfaz on tumblr who beta'd this for me a while back. Hope you enjoy.

**_“And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death.” - Walt Whitman_ **

 

Emma didn’t dream that night, which was both a relief, and the first time that had happened since Lily’s murder. She was also pleasantly surprised to find that she was not covered in dirt or blood, nor had she written any off-putting messages on the wall. It was all quite tame really, she simply awoke from the best sleep she’d had in a while in Hook’s arms. 

 

In Hook’s arms.

 

She hadn’t realized what she was doing when her eyes had first snapped open. It had been an unfamiliar feeling, one she hadn’t experienced since Henry’s father. She’d had sex with plenty of men, of course, but she never stuck around long enough to reap any benefits of that morning-after cuddle. 

 

Apparently her body hadn’t forgotten how to curl up right next to a man’s. 

 

It was almost embarrassing how tightly she was wrapped around him; arm across his stomach, head on his chest. He wasn’t free of guilt either. Hook had remained propped against the headboard, but he’d slumped ever so slightly, and his cheek was resting atop her head. He had an arm holding her tightly against him. 

 

It was all so noxiously cliche that she wanted to gag. He was clearly doing a really great job watching out to make sure she didn’t murder anyone. It was best if he never knew this had happened, if she was far, far away from him when he woke up. 

 

Early morning light was filtering in from the sides of the heavy curtain, and she figured she’d just go downstairs and occupy herself somehow. As she disentangled herself ever so slowly from his arms, she kept trying to distract herself with new ideas as to what she could do. Maybe she’d read a book. Maybe she’d look over some of his art. Maybe she’d see if she could finally perfect her headstand. Maybe she’d find a cure for cancer. She kept trying to distract herself so that she wouldn’t think about the fact that she kind of liked being in his arms. That, at the very least, it was the one spot she felt safe, if only for a second. 

 

Emma did finally manage to free herself, and it was her full intention to just make a swift exit and get out of the room as quickly as possible. Of course, because she was a masochist, she just had to look back. 

 

He looked so small, so unthreatening, lying there in the bed. She had to imagine that having to act big, and scary, and intimidating all day was exhausting. The fact that he was dead to the world, no pun intended, allowed her to study him without interruption. Hook seemed younger when he was asleep, less angry.  He had a scar under his eye and she wanted to know how he’d gotten it. She’d always had a knack for knowing when people were lying, but he was trickier. He had more secrets than she knew what to do with, and she found that familiar curiosity creeping up. You know what they say about curiosity… 

 

And then, as she was staring at him for an inappropriately long amount of time, his hand twitched in his sleep. It was subtle, quick, if she didn’t have her ethereal reflexes she would’ve missed it entirely. The little reach that he did in her direction as his eyebrows furrowed in distress and he made a little murmuring sound. When she felt her heart clench up ever so slightly, she knew she was screwed. She knew that she was beginning to  _ care _ about him. She didn’t want him to be in pain. She didn’t want him to be such a tortured soul. She didn’t want him to feel like he was some horrible creature undeserving of good things. It was the bare minimum of caring, not wanting someone to be hurt basically meant that she was just a good being, but it still meant that she cared. 

 

And Emma had promised herself a long time ago that she wasn’t going to care for anymore people. 

 

So she took one last glance at him, let herself care for one more moment, and then she felt her walls shoot up again. 

 

This time she wouldn’t let her guard down. 

 

**OOO**

 

Emma avoided him at all costs. 

 

She did her best to make it seem like a coincidence that any time he entered a room, she exited it very quickly. The angel knew she was doing a horrible job at appearing nonchalant, but it was much better than allowing herself to be vulnerable. 

 

If he’d thought her behavior was odd, he didn’t say anything about it. In fact, very few words were exchanged between the two of them the entire morning. Maybe he was feeling unsure about the present situation, but, either way, she wasn’t asking. 

 

That was the problem with the two of them, wasn’t it? She knew him well enough now to know that he was almost as frustratingly stubborn as she was. That meant that it was entirely possible both of them would blatantly ignore the moment they’d had last night at any and all costs. 

It shouldn’t bother her that he was seemingly content with letting it all go. She shouldn’t care that he had no qualms about keeping their relationship strictly business, the way she kept telling herself it had been before. 

 

After all, all they’d done was hold hands, and it hadn’t even been in a romantic way. He’d told her about his dead brother, and she’d told him that she may or may not be killing people during psychotic episodes. No big deal. So why was she acting like this? 

 

It probably had something to do with said psychotic episodes. They were probably messing with her hormone levels. She couldn’t care about him, that was utterly ridiculous. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself as she stared very hard out the window of the Range Rover and refused to look at him. 

 

“We’ll be there soon,” Smee informed her. 

 

Emma nodded but didn’t take her eyes off the scenery she was pretending to gaze at. She wasn’t really looking forward to meeting Arthur, nor was she particularly excited about the prospect of walking into his office of demons. Apparently, the building functioned as a government department, but it was really just a cover so that Arthur could conduct his business, or something. She wasn’t really sure, she’d kind of zoned out when Regina had been blabbing about it on the plane. 

 

“Be on your guard, Swan,” Hook muttered as he too pretended to stare out a window. 

 

He’d very childishly chosen to sit in the front seat, and at first she’d told herself that maybe he just liked the front. Then he’d refused to even look at her and she’d realized he was punishing her for avoiding him. So now they were engaged in some sort of reverse staring contest and it was all utterly ridiculous but she wasn’t going to crack first, not when distance was what was best for them. Instead she sat in the backseat and looked out the window. It felt like she was reenacting  _ Driving Miss Daisy,  _ except for the fact that she was an angel and he was a demon and she had no idea who Smee would be in the situation. So it was like some extremely fucked up version of  _ Driving Miss Daisy.  _

 

She was, however, momentarily grateful that they were seated in different parts of the car as they pulled up to where Arthur ruled. It meant Hook couldn’t see the horror etched on her face. 

 

It was an old building, probably older than Hook himself. He’d said he’d died in the peasant’s revolt, which had taken place in 1381, thank you Google, so, yeah, the building was old. Old and large and very intimidating. Architecturally, it looked vaguely like the Palace of Westminster, minus Big Ben. The building was, quite frankly, exactly where she’d imagine the Supreme Overlord, or whatever he was calling himself, would conduct business. Set against the grey sky that looked about ready to burst with rain, the whole thing was a site to behold. 

 

They pulled into a small courtyard in front of the building and Emma could see Regina and Will standing a little ways away. Regina looked appropriately pissed and Will was clutching an umbrella looking equal parts skittish and enthusiastic. 

 

“It’s about damn time,” Regina called as Emma opened the door. 

 

The angel stepped out of the car, boots crunching on the white gravel beneath her feet. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Your Majesty,” Emma replied in the most sarcastic tone she could muster. There was something incredibly off-putting about the atmosphere of the building. It probably had something to do with the fact that there were hundreds of demons mulling about. 

 

Suddenly, Hook was at her side, one arm grasping her arm firmly as he guided her towards Regina and Will. She was startled at the sudden proximity between them, but she was too stunned to say anything, instead preferring to stare at his hand like it was alien to her. “Stay close, Swan,” he instructed, eyes forward.   
  


“I doubt you’d give me any other option,” Emma murmured. 

 

Hook shot her a warning look but didn’t say anything, instead turning his attention to Regina. “You ready? I’d prefer to spend as little time here as possible.” 

 

Regina pursued her blood red lips. “For once you and I are in agreement. Let’s get this show on the road.” 

 

“Right,” Hook affirmed as he dropped Emma’s arm and turned to face her. “Stay here.” 

 

The angel started. “What?” 

 

“Stay here until one of us comes back to get you. We’re going to go in and request an audience with Arthur,” Hook explained and then actually turned to leave her. 

 

Emma stepped after him and grabbed his arm, spinning him around so he was facing her again. “If you think I’m just going to stand here twiddling my thumbs you’re insane.” 

 

Now he looked pissed. “I don’t think you’re going to stand here, I  _ know  _ you’re going to stand here. We don’t need you going in and flying off the handle.” 

 

“Did you not just tell me to stay close.” 

 

Hook gave her a condescending smile. “Yes, from the car to Regina you were meant to stay close, and now you’re meant to stay here.” 

 

Emma felt her mouth literally drop open ever so slightly. “I’m not staying out here.” She attempted to move past him towards the entrance of the building but he made a move to block her.

 

“Go inside I’ll meet you in there,” he called over his shoulder at the two other demons without looking away from Emma. 

 

She met his stare and decided to give him just a moment to explain himself if only because he kept her from murdering anyone last night. “I can’t not be a part of this,” she whispered when Regina and Will were out of earshot.

 

Hook sighed. “You’re going to be a part of this; you’re going to speak to Arthur. I just want to go in first and assess the situation.” 

 

Emma studied his face, eyes drawn to that scar on his face again and she was suddenly reminded of this morning. “Why?” 

 

For just a second, he dropped the facade he always seemed to present when they were in public. He let her really see him, see that he was nervous about the situation. “I want to know exactly what I’m bringing you into. The last thing we need is you making a scene, and if things do go awry I want to be sure we can handle it.” He paused and took a deep breath, and it was almost comical how simultaneously frustrated and genuine he looked. “I’m trying my damnedest to keep you safe, Swan.” 

 

She just looked at him, letting his words sink in. She realized with a dull ache in her chest and a lump in her throat that she wasn't the only one who was beginning to reluctantly care about someone that they shouldn’t. “I don’t need you to keep me safe,” she murmured. 

 

Hook let out a dry laugh and shook his head. “If it’s all the same, Love, I’d appreciate it if you’d at least let me try.” He leaned forward then, and she could tell the mask was back in place. Giving her as flirtatious of a smile as he could seemingly muster, he said, “It’d be good for my ego.” 

 

She shoved him back softly and rolled her eyes. “Your ego doesn’t need anymore help.” 

 

Hook gave her a real smile, and she decide she quite liked those. “You’ll stay put then?” 

 

Emma shrugged. “Until I decide not to.” 

 

He smiled at her and nodded, turning on his heel and stalking into the building. 

 

Emma’s eyes stayed on him until she couldn’t see him anymore. 

 

**OOO**

 

It had taken her about two minutes to realize that Hook’s grand plan of leaving her on her own wasn’t a great one.

 

She was outside, so that gave her an added advantage. It’d be very easy for her to just teleport herself out of there should things start to go awry. It was also light out, albeit overcast, and the fact that she was directly exposed to it meant her powers were stronger. 

 

The thing was, she’d never leave without them, and she’d venture to guess he knew that. 

 

The other, slightly more pressing issue, was that there were a bunch of demons milling about the courtyard. She hadn’t realized it when they’d first arrived, too distracted by her demonic companions, but it was slightly off-putting. She would just wait in the car, but naturally Smee had driven off to god only knows where. He was probably sucking out a soul or something, she wasn’t really sure what demons did in their spare time. So now she was just hanging out all by her lonesome; the only angel in a very large population of demons.

 

Who were all staring at her.

 

That is, those who could see her and sense her presence were staring at her. Most of them just looked confused, some of them looked pissed, but no one dared approach her as she shifted back and forth on the balls of her feet waiting for her demons to return. 

 

She didn’t feel him approach her, senses too overwhelmed by everything going on around her. One minute she was standing alone, and the next there was someone beside her. 

 

“Not everyday an angel graces us with its presence.” 

 

Emma’s head whipped around and she faltered ever so slightly. Even as she registered that there was indeed a man standing next to her, she still regarded him with confusion. It was like he’d materialized out of thin air. “Who in the name of god are you?” 

 

The man moved a hand to his chest and made like he’d just been pained. “Bold choice, using that word around all these demons.” 

 

Emma rolled her eyes, not in the mood. “Yeah, well, some would just call it stupidity.”

 

The demon chuckled lowly. “And what, pray tell, is a stupid, beautiful creature such as yourself doing in a place like this?” 

 

Emma stepped back a ways, partly because he was creeping her out, but mostly so that she could get a better look at him. The man was a bit older, he’d probably been in his mid-fifties when he’d died. He was a short, skinny man and Emma sensed that if she tried to shove him over, he’d go down easily. He had thin lips and beady black eyes, and his chestnut hair skimmed his shoulders. There was something else too, something deceptively dark in the way he held himself. He was giving off a strong demonic aura, but it was more than that. She felt like she was standing next to a black hole, and she found the pull both intimidating and intoxicating. Then suddenly, not by her own accord, she blurted, “I’m waiting to meet with Arthur,” and she literally had no idea why she’d just told him that. 

 

The demon nodded as though it were the answer he’d been expecting. “And what do you need from the Supreme Overlord.” He asked, and just a hint of amusement leaked into his voice when he used Arthur’s title. 

 

She found it took every ounce of resolve she had not to give him the answer to his question. For whatever reason, Emma found that she really, really wanted to offer it up, and she had no idea why. He didn’t appear to be using any sort of dark magic on her, unless he was just so good she couldn’t even tell. “Why would I tell you that?” Emma asked, and the suspicion in her voice was as plain as day. 

 

He smiled at her as though their conversation was bringing him immense joy. “Fair point.” The demon turned thoughtful for a moment, eyes scanning the courtyard and building in front of them. He twirled a black cane Emma hadn’t realized he was holding around in his hand. “I can get you council with him, if that’s what you’d like.” 

 

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, warning bells going off in her head. She really should wait for the group, she knew that, but it would make things significantly easier if she could just cut through the bureaucracy and get right to the point. She didn’t trust the man next to her in any sense of the word, but she could handle herself, of that she was sure. “Why would you do that?” 

 

“Oh, I don’t do anything out of the kindness of my heart, you’ll have to give me something.” 

 

Emma turned away then. “Uninterested. Keep it moving, Buddy.”

 

The demon chuckled. “I assure you, it’s nothing large. I just have one question.” The man paused then, and his expression suddenly turned curious. “What’s your name, Dearie?” 

 

Emma started, unprepared for the seemingly out of the blue question. It felt innocent enough; there wasn’t much he could do with just her name. At least, she wasn’t aware of some weird demon hex thing, but with her luck one probably existed. Nevertheless she said, “Swan. My name is Emma Swan.” 

 

He smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. “Emma. What a lovely name.” Probably sensing her discomfort, he quickly tacked on, “My name is Robert Gold.” 

 

Emma gave him a tight smile in return. “Nice to meet you.” 

 

Gold, that was what she decided to refer to him as because Robert felt too casual, picked a non-existent piece of lint off his jacket. “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” Gold flexed his hand atop his cane. “And I am a man of my word.” He raised the cane and gestured towards a group of men making their way across the grass. In the middle of the pack was a very distinguished looking gentleman in a suit and everyone else made sure to give him a wide berth of space. “That’s Arthur. Approach him, tell him who you are, and he’ll meet with you.” 

 

Emma raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Seriously?” 

 

Gold looked at her like he wanted to slap her upside the head. “Seriously. You better get going, he’s a very busy man.” 

 

Emma stared at the demon in front of her, the whole exchange having been very bizarre. She had no idea why he’d chosen to help her, it certainly couldn’t have been out of the kindness of his heart, but she decided to let it go. Maybe demons weren’t the bad guys, at least, maybe not all of them were. “Thank you for helping me.” Emma nodded and turned to walk away, not expecting him to say anything in return.

 

Of course, all of Emma’s expectations had been subverted ever since this case had begun. “It was my pleasure, Ms. Swan.”  Then, when Emma looked back to face him, he gave her a smile that made her blood run cold. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other in the future.” 

 

She was going to say something in reply, but suddenly there was an itch in her back as her wings started to unfurl. Emma had to put all her energy into keeping them in place, wanting nothing less then to cause a scene. She wasn’t entirely sure what in his words had elicited that response; the conversation had been off-putting, but she hadn’t really felt unsafe. Not up until that moment. 

 

By the time she calmed herself down, Gold had disappeared into the shadows. 

 

Emma took a moment to stare at the spot he’d just been standing in, before she reminded herself that she didn’t have much time. Shaking the experience off and swallowing the bile rising in the back of her throat, she quickly turned on her heel and moved towards Arthur. He was moving very quickly, his gaze looking down at some papers he was clutching. He had on a navy blue suit that, if she was being honest with herself, looked quite good on him. He was flanked on all sides by an armed guard consisting of several beefy looking men that could probably kill her without batting an eye. He certainly had a regal air about him, perhaps more so than Regina, and she was almost certain that there was some sort of protocol that one was to follow when approaching him. 

 

Naturally she just flounced up to him and stood in his path. 

 

He didn’t notice her there, or he figured she’d move, so he just barreled right into her. His arms quickly shot out to steady himself, and he grabbed onto her forearm just a little too tightly. His guards were already in motion, raising their weapons so that they were all aimed at her. When Arthur finally looked up, Emma was unprepared for the range of responses her presence was eliciting.

There was the obvious surprise, and slight indignation, at the idea that she had nearly knocked him over without a care in the world. His expression quickly shifted into one of curiosity as he took in her defiant form, an angel in Satan’s court. There was something else there too, something that confused her to know end. He looked at her with some sort of recognition, as though he knew who she was. If he was tied to the whole Zelena business, there was a chance that he did, but it was more than that. He looked at her in an almost fond manner, as though he was happy to see her.

 

Then, suddenly, his expression shifted into one of cool indifference. He was hiding his emotions. “Can I help you, Bird?” His tone was ridiculously polite, and she suspected that was simply a habit. 

 

Emma gave him a quick once-over to let him know that she wasn’t intimidated. “We need to talk.” 

 

Arthur gave her a forced laugh, and the rest of the men around him joined in boisterously. “Forgive me for being impolite, but I’m a very busy man, and I don’t even know who you are. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Arthur made a move to get around her.

 

Emma mirrored his actions, blocking his way. She gave him a tight smile. “My name is Emma Swan, I’m with the Boston Police Department. Several murders have taken place in and around the area and some of the victims include members of the divine community.” She paused and gave herself a mental pat on the back; her “police voice” had really gotten better. “We just want to see what you know.” 

 

“And why would you assume I knew anything, Ms. Swan?” 

 

She’d expected that. “Your friend Zelena Mills was seen poking around one of the victim's apartments." She decided to leave out the fact that she’d thrown Zelena through a wall. 

 

Emma didn’t miss the way Arthur's face soured at the mention of Zelena. “I’d hardly call us friends. You’re with Regina then?” 

 

Emma nodded. “Regina and Killian Jones.” She could imagine that Will would be mad that she hadn’t dropped his name, but she figured it was best to remove him from the situation as best as possible. 

 

Somehow Arthur’s scowl only deepened when she said Killian’s name. She probably shouldn’t be surprised that the two apparently had some beef. “I already told my receptionist to tell Regina that I wasn’t taking appointments today.” 

 

Emma shrugged. “I didn’t know you answered to your receptionist. We wouldn’t want to inconvenience her.” She gave him a large smile, guessing that a man like him wouldn’t want to have his power questioned. 

 

She always was a good guesser.

 

Never taking his eyes off her, Arthur inclined his head slightly towards one of his guards. “Tell Gwen that I’ll see Regina after all.” He extended an arm towards Emma and she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. 

 

Together the angel and the demon walked into the building. 

 

**OOO**

 

“Would you like something to drink?” 

 

Emma turned to look over her shoulder at Arthur, who was perusing the bar set up in his office. She imagined that most of the spirits on the shelf were older than her. “Rum, please,” she replied, giving him a tight smile. 

He pulled up the bottle and poured the amber liquid into a crystal glass. “Sit,” he told her as he passed her the drink. 

 

She took a small sip and then crossed her arms. The drink wasn’t for her. “I’ll stand until they get here.”

 

Arthur smiled. “I won’t bite, I can assure you. Sit.” His tone was slightly more emphatic now. 

 

Emma stayed where she was. “I’m fine.” 

 

“That wasn’t a request, Ms. Swan.” 

 

Emma cocked her head, and gave him a sneer. “I’m not a demon, I don’t have to listen to you.” 

 

Arthur stared at her for a beat, the smile dropping from his face. He gave her a dark chuckle as he made his way over to his desk. “You’re right; you don’t. I could kill you though, so you’d be wise to do what I tell you to,” he told her as he sat down. 

 

She pondered her options for a moment before she decided that he didn’t seem like the type to make empty threats. Moving at a glacial pace, she made her way over to the two chairs that were facing his. The demon gestured his hand out to one of them, and Emma never broke eye contact as she sat down in the other one. “Happy?” She purred as she crossed her ankles. 

 

“You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”  

 

Emma was about to reply with some smart, scathing comment when the door opened. She turned her head so fast she was certain it would’ve given her whiplash had she been human.

 

She never thought she’d be so happy to see three demons in her entire life. They, on the other hand, looked incredibly confused by her presence. Clearly, no one had told them she’d be here. 

 

“Ms. Swan, I didn’t know you were already here,” Regina said, hesitation in her voice. 

 

Will charged forward and moved towards the open seat next to her, flopping down with a grunt. “Figures ya’d get the party started early.” He winked and shot her a grin, clearly excited for whatever was about to go down. 

 

Emma gave him a nod and a smile before turning her attention to Hook. He hadn’t said anything, which probably wasn’t a great sign, since he always had something to add. She was expecting him to be shooting her some sort of pissed off look, but she quickly realized he was staring daggers at Arthur. He hadn’t mentioned there being any issues between the two of them. “Hook,” Emma called.

 

He didn’t look at her. “Good to see you again, Mate. Glad to know that kingdom is faring well, given the fact that it’s king has got a few screws loose.” Emma was used to Hook being a bit crass, but this was something else. There was something malicious in his voice. 

 

“Careful, Hook. This might just be the  _ last _ time you see me.” Arthur spun his drink, bourbon, around in his glass. 

 

“If you could kill me, you’d have done that a long time ago,” Hook challenged, and Emma expected that to be it. She expected to watch him die right then and there. From what she knew, Arthur was the most powerful demon in the world, he clearly had the means to end anyone he wanted to. 

 

For whatever reason, he didn’t kill Hook that day. 

 

When the situation seemed to have diffused slightly, Emma tried to get his attention again. “Hook,” she called and this time he looked at her. She held the rum up and he stared at the glass, unsure of what she wanted. “It’s for you.” 

 

“Me?” He asked, and there was something cute in how unsure he sounded. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Hook took the glass, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Thank you.” 

 

Emma nodded, smiled. He was so untrusting, and probably for good reason. She couldn’t really discourage that without seeming like a hypocrite, no one was more untrusting than her, but she wanted to ease his mind a little. She could sense there was some unsavory history between the two demons, and Hook spoke of Arthur with nothing short of hatred, but she really needed him to keep calm. Quite frankly, as long as he could keep his damn mouth shut she’d consider this entire endeavor a success. “So,” Emma began. 

 

Arthur interrupted her before she could even get into it. “Listen, I seriously doubt I’m going to be of much help to you all. You may be better assisted by interviewing someone else.” 

 

“Nevertheless,” Regina cut in with a grimace masquerading as a grin. “It’s important for us to cross our t’s and dot our i’s, so if you could listen to Emma and answer her questions, it would be easier for all of us.” 

 

Emma was surprised at the assist from Regina, and it seemed to work wonders in shutting Arthur up, so she continued. “As I was going to say, about a week ago an angel, a demon, and a human were all murdered in a Boston area home. Now these murders have been taking place on this day each year for the past several years, but we haven’t received confirmation that past victims have been ethereal in nature.” 

 

Arthur, who had been staring pointedly at his desk while she spoke, looked up. “I can imagine it wouldn’t be hard to figure out.” 

 

Emma bristled, his tone was too accusatory for her liking. “If you aren’t looking, yeah, it can be pretty hard to figure out, and considering the fact that the rest of Boston PD are human, I can imagine they aren’t checking each victim to figure out if they’re an angel or a demon.” 

 

Arthur held up his hands in consent. “Fair enough. Carry on.” 

 

“One of the victims, the demon, was a woman named Lily Page. Hook and I,” Emma gestured at the man at her side, who looked like he was trying very hard to set Arthur on fire with his gaze. “Went to her apartment and ran into Zelena. There was a bit of a confrontation, the details don’t matter much, but we know you two work closely together.”

 

Arthur stood up then, clearly deciding that he was done listening to her. “Zelena and I don’t work  _ together.  _ She works under me.” 

 

“In more ways then one, isn’t that right, Mate,” Hook added.  

 

Emma decided, as Arthur stared at him with hatred in his eyes, that Hook had a death wish. At this point she wouldn’t even blame Arthur for killing him, she had no idea why he hadn’t made a move to do so yet. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Nevertheless, I don’t know anything about the murder or Lily what’s-her-name. I haven’t seen or heard from Zelena in several months.” 

 

“Wait,” Regina interrupted, her voice coming out in a very shrill manner. “You  _ are  _ sleeping with my sister? I thought that was just an idiotic quip.” 

 

Hook gave her a goading smile. “Oh no, Darling, I never make false accusations. It goes against my code.” 

 

“I doubt that,” Arthur sneered. 

 

Emma was about to cut in, get them all back on track the way she seemingly always was forced to, but she was interrupted by the voices in her head. It was one very specific voice; her brother’s. He was just saying her name over and over again in a somewhat skeptical tone, clearly trying to get her attention. 

 

He was praying.

 

Prayers didn’t normally work over such long distances, unless of course you were praying to one specific angel. It happened very rarely now that humans were less aware of their presence, and didn’t really credit things like childbirth or rainfall to them anymore. However, she’d told David that if he needed her he could pray to her and she’d get in contact with him, because there was no way she’d pay for an international plan. 

 

No matter what was going on in her life, her family always came first, and so she said, “Can you all excuse me for just a moment.” 

 

Arthur was the only one in the room who didn’t turn to stare at her in disbelief. “No worries, in fact, I think you all should go.” 

 

“Hang on a minute, I just need to make a quick phone call and we can continue this discussion,” Emma protested. 

 

Arthur stood and straightened his suit, tugging it down at the bottom. “No, we can’t. Not unless you arrest me, and I don’t think you have the evidence, nor the power to do so. We’re done here.” With his words, a rush of dark magic flooded the room, suffocating Emma and trapping her where she stood. There was a reason he was Supreme Overlord, or whatever it was, and they all knew it. 

 

He knew it too.

 

That much was apparent as he glided past all of them with a confidence that only came with knowing that you were untouchable. Then, when he reached the door, he seemed to reconsider. He turned back towards them and Emma was surprised when his gaze went directly to her. 

 

Time felt like it froze as he slinked back towards her, eyes alight with devilish glee. She didn’t even register that his hand was moving towards hers, until his fingers had wrapped themselves around her in a ironclad grip. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hook start towards her, but Regina held up a warning hand. Slowly, so slowly she could count every one of her heartbeats as time moved along, Arthur placed a delicate kiss to the back of her hand. 

 

“Perhaps, Ms. Swan, if you want to know who the true monster is, you should look in the mirror,” he purred. Then he glanced up and gave her a look that meant only one thing. 

 

He knew. 

 

And with one simple look, she was running out the door. She had no idea where she was going, she just knew that she needed to leave. She needed to get as far away as possible. Her chest was far too tight, her lungs ready to burst as she dragged in breath after breath. She vaguely registered that she was moving too far too quickly to simply be running, and that she was probably using light magic to transport herself down the endless hallways. Given that she was surrounded by demons and darkness, that probably wasn’t the best idea, but she also felt she didn’t have a choice. Her head was too foggy to be making any rational choices. 

 

She suddenly became aware of a very dark presence coming up behind her. It was moving quickly, and sticking a little too close for it to not be following her. Spinning on her heel, she let her wings fly out and shifted into an ethereal state, prepared to greet whoever it was with a hell of a lot of rage.

 

She should’ve known it was him.

 

Her shadow. 

 

Hook grabbed her arms and shoved her back into a little alcove. “You need to calm down,” he commanded, his tone urgent.

 

He definitely wasn’t lacking in the bravery department, laying a hand on her when, in her current state, she could probably do some serious damage. “Calm down? He knows, Hook, he knows,” she replied, and her voice did not sound nearly as hysterical as she felt. She vaguely registered thunder shaking the building. 

 

“Do you hear yourself? Arthur doesn’t know.” 

 

The lights surged. “You heard him! You saw him! He knows, there’s no way he doesn’t.”

 

Hook was still holding her arms. “Arthur is a sadistic prick who’s really good at reading people, but he doesn’t know shit. Trust me, I’ve known him long enough to tell when he’s bluffing. You’re a powerful angel, he was just trying to get under your skin.” 

 

Emma pondered his words and decided that, while she wasn’t satisfied, they made sense. They eased her mind ever so slightly, which, for whatever reason, pissed her off in a new way. She didn’t want it to be his words that calmed the raging storm, but nevertheless, the lights dimmed and the thunder wasn’t quite as loud. “I’m fine,” Emma whispered, sagging ever so slightly. 

 

“You’re fine?” 

 

Emma shot him an aggravated look. It wasn’t fair that he was going to have to bear the brunt of her frustration. Didn’t mean she wasn’t going to make him. After all, he was the only one who knew her secret, and, more importantly, he was right in front of her. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” She growled and ripped her arms from his grasp. “Do you have a phone?” 

 

Hook looked at her slightly bewildered, but produced one anyways. “Say please,” he demanded. 

 

Emma, unamused, took the device without a word. She punched in her brother’s number and began to tap her foot against the marble floor. It rang twice. “David,” she barked.

 

She could practically feel her brother cringing on the other end. “You’re not happy. That’s going to make this a hell of a lot harder.”

 

“Make what a lot harder?” 

 

“I need you to humor me here, Emma.” He was using his big brother tone, the one that was slightly patronizing and carried a bit of a warning. 

 

“David, I need you to cut to the chase here.” 

 

Her brother took a deep breath and then it all came out in a rush. “I reached out to a couple of stations across the country, asking them if they’d ever seen anything similar to what we have. I didn’t expect to hear anything back, but I got a hit. There were several murders over the course of multiple years before they stopped and then started up again in Boston.” Her brother sounded guilty, and she was mildly glad he seemed to recognize he shouldn’t have proceeded without her. “I didn’t want to worry you, so I figured I’d check it out while you were in London, that way when it turned out to be a bust, we wouldn’t have an issue. Except it didn’t turn out to be a bust, and now Mary Margaret, Henry, and I are all out here, and, well, I think you guys should be out here too.” 

 

Emma paused. David sounded nervous, and he wasn’t one to get nervous. “Where’s here?” 

 

There was a beat. “Phoenix.” 

 

The angel felt all the air rush out of her lungs as she started to get worked up again. “You’re in  _ Phoenix _ ?”

 

“Yes, and Emma…” 

 

Suddenly she couldn’t hear him anymore, her eyes having drifted over to a regal looking portrait hanging a few feet away. Emma hadn’t noticed it before, too distracted by her minor breakdown. She made her way over to it slowly, trying to make sure that she was right, that she did recognize the man in it. He was very handsome; dark skin that was augmented by the heavy blue robes he was wearing, and brown eyes that suggested he knew far more than anyone should. 

 

“Swan?” She heard Hook’s voice call out, but she was already deep inside her own head. 

 

_ “We need to go, Emma. They’re coming,” the man implored.  _

 

_ “No, no, I have to get to him, I have to-“ She began to pull away, barely recognizing her own voice. She sounded desperate beyond belief.  _

 

_ “We don’t have time. We need to go, we need to go.”  _

 

_ “No!” she screamed, and if she hadn’t recognized her voice before, she surely didn’t now. She sounded dark. She sounded dangerous.  _

 

_ Suddenly, as if not by her own accord, her arm went sweeping out and the man flew backwards into a nearby tree. She felt her resolve harden. He couldn’t stop her.  _

 

_ He was fading quickly, his head bleeding heavily. Still, he reached out to her. “Emma, please, don't do this. Don’t go down this path again. If you do, all our work is lost.”  _

 

She stumbled forward, her legs seemingly carrying her towards the painting without her consent. It was the man from that first dream, that first memory. She’d known him and she’d known him well. 

 

She almost smiled when she saw that there was a tiny placard beneath the portrait telling her his name. She would’ve smiled if not for the lump in her throat and the tears in her eyes that prevented her from doing so.

 

Merlin. 

 


	9. Ghosts That We Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well look at this; I've risen from the dead! Sorry for my extended hiatus, but some important things have occurred. I've finished a rough cut of this story (or at least part one of this story), so updates should come more regularly. 
> 
> This is the first piece I've ever written that has gotten to be this length and is basically my own original thing, so I've decided to maybe try and get it published! Because of that, I've been editing (changing names, changing details, etc.). As such, some of the stuff that I post on here might be a little bit rough because so much has changed and it's hard for me to track so I'm just posting what I originally wrote way back when. Thank you for your continued support and I hope you like! 
> 
> You still with me??

 

**_“And I believe that love is stronger than death.”  - Robert Fulghum_ **

 

Emma had missed the heat. 

 

It was probably the only thing she’d missed about Phoenix; that dry heat that you could practically feel bleaching your bones and burning your skin. Maybe it was the fact that she was an angel who could barely feel anything anymore, but there was something comforting about it. It almost made her forget why she’d fled this place like a bat out of hell. 

 

Almost. 

 

This city didn’t exactly bring back happy memories. Going to jail at 17 wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. Giving birth in jail a few months later wasn’t either. Needless to say, her time in Phoenix wasn’t something she wanted to relive. 

 

Which, of course, meant that she had to. 

 

She did feel a bit of satisfaction when she walked into the sheriff’s station as a cop and not a orphan, homeless teenage who’d fallen for the wrong guy. Of course, none of the officers who were working recognized her, and they probably hadn’t even been cops when she’d been arrested. But she knew, and that was all that mattered. 

 

“Emma!” She heard a voice call out and she turned to see David rushing over to her. 

 

“Hi,” she breathed as she threw her arms around him. She was pissed he hadn’t told her he was coming here, but she was relieved to see him. His presence always put her at ease.“Where’s Henry?” 

 

“He and Mary Margaret are walking around downtown. He was very excited to see the city he was born in.” 

 

Emma scowled at him. “I would’ve been very appreciative if you’d run this by me.”

 

“Mary Margaret wasn’t going to let me come alone, and leaving him alone seemed irresponsible.” 

 

“And bringing him here didn’t? 

 

David didn’t answer her though, his eyes traveling behind her. “You brought Hook,” he muttered disapprovingly as he seemingly caught a glimpse at who was with her.

 

“And Will and Regina, they’re at the hotel.” 

 

David’s shoulders sagged. “You couldn’t have dropped them off in Boston?”

 

“She used me for my jet, Dave! Your sister has been using me for a lot of things lately, not that I’m complaining,” he yelled, literally, he was screaming, across the room. 

 

Emma had half a mind to slap him upside the head, but she figured he’d already drawn everyone’s attention and adding fuel to the fire would be bad. “Can you please shut up?” Emma whispered under her breath lowly enough that no one else would hear except him. Turning her attention back to her brother, she asked, “What do we know?” 

 

“Come with me,” David nodded his head towards the back, a clear indication for both her and Hook to follow. 

 

She walked behind her brother and in front of the demon as they made their way to a small office. The room was full of files and photographs littered the walls and the only window in the room. “Wow.” 

 

“You’re damn right,” a voice called out.

 

Emma turned to find a very tall, very tan man looking down at her. His hair was white and his eyes were a deep blue. He was sporting a well kept mustache and he appeared to be in excellent shape. “Hello?” Emma greeted hesitantly. 

 

“Emma this is Detective Brenner. He was the detective assigned to these cases, and he’s very kindly agreed to come out of retirement and help us.” 

 

Emma regarded the human suspiciously, as was her nature. A quick once-over revealed that he had high levels of light in him; he was a fundamentally good person, a pure soul. However, she’d learned a long time ago that people were good at hiding their true nature. The past few days had only reaffirmed that. Still, she stuck out her hand. “Emma Swan. It’s a pleasure to meet you Detective.”

 

The man smiled at her with an inordinate amount of fondness given the fact that they’d just met. “Call me Steve. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma.” 

 

David then turned his attention to the demon in the room. “This is one of our informants, Hook. He knew the victim I was telling you about, Lily Page.” 

 

All that warmth that he’d greeted Emma with vanished from the Detective’s countenance. In fact, his expression suddenly seemed almost hostile as he folded his arms across his chest. She knew that “good” humans gravitated towards angels and regarded demons with more caution, but the complete 180 she’d just witnessed seemed a bit much. “Hello.” 

 

If Hook was fazed, he didn’t show it. He was probably used to it at this point in his life. He simply nodded and responded with a, “Mate.” 

 

Emma turned from the two men and looked at her brother. “Let’s get on with it then.” Detective Brenner seemed well-meaning, but she wasn’t really looking to spend any more time with him then she had to. 

 

David nodded. He’d always been good at knowing what she wanted without her having to say it. “Right, well, for a period of three years during the late 1990’s, three people were murdered on the same day in October. We have some photos of the bodies, they’re a little low quality.” David stopped speaking as he moved to pull a series of photos of the wall. He passed them over to Emma with an expectant look on his face. “They have the same, um, markings as the victims in Boston did.” 

 

Emma studied the pictures. They were all men this time and each photo was of their backs. One of them had the tell tale scars of a demon, while another had the two raised bumps that meant he was an angel. “What years did the murders take place in?”

 

“1997, 1998, and 1999,” the detective told her. 

 

Emma stopped breathing. 

 

That’s when she’d been in Phoenix. 

 

Judging by the look he was giving her, there was a very strong possibility that David had also realized this. It was his, “please don't panic, please don’t kill me,” face. He used to give it to her in their foster home when the two of them would be doing something they shouldn’t have been and they’d break something or get caught sneaking out. Her favorite incident was when they’d been smoking weed on the roof; that was fun. 

 

“We have a meeting with one of the victim’s mother tomorrow. Up until then I suggest we all rest up. I can imagine you’re exhausted.” David was clearly trying to ease her mind. 

 

It wasn’t working. “Yeah,” Emma looked at Hook pointedly, “We both could probably use some rest.” Her mouth curled up at the end of her statement; it was almost funny how much rest and her did not mix. 

 

Hook nodded in affirmation, clearly understanding. “Aye, rest would be good.” 

 

David looked between them, a furrow in his brow. “I swear to God,” he muttered. 

 

“Well Mate, you’re in good company for that,” Hook purred.

 

Detective Steve looked confused.

 

Emma laughed.

** OOO **

 

Emma realized that she had not, in fact, missed the heat. 

 

It was October, so it wasn’t exactly scorching outside, but, for whatever reason, she found the weather to be unbearably. The air was stale and had an odd metallic taste when she breathed in. She had longed ago kicked the sheets to the bottom of the bed she was laying in, but she was still too hot. Granted, it probably had nothing to do with the heat but rather how intensely afraid she was of falling asleep. So much so, in fact, that she was profusely sweating out of seemingly ever pore in her body.

 

Turning on her side, she reached into the small plastic cup of ice that she’d filled up and put on the bedside table. She pulled out an ice cube and quickly ran it across her forehead, half expecting steam to rise when it made contact with her skin. With a sigh, she moved it down her temple and towards the back of her neck. She pressed it there and it quickly melted under the heat of her fingers. Emma reached back into the cup and pulled out another cube, this time pulling her shirt up and placing it on her stomach. She swirled her hips around, watching as the cube danced around her bellybutton, leaving a trail of water in its wake. 

 

Sleep was an elusive son of a bitch. 

 

Henry’s soft snores from the bed next to her drew her attention away from her little ice game. She’d been so damn happy to see him it had taken her aback. Henry had always been her lifeline. No matter what evil she committed, no matter how much she hated herself, she could always justify her existence when she looked at her son. He was the reason she was here. He was the good she gave to the world. 

 

Right now, she needed that reminder more than ever. 

 

He seemed happy to be here, in this city. They rarely talked about his dad, Emma would answer whatever questions he asked, but Henry knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t want to. He knew that this city represented a dark time in her life, but it was also the place that he’d entered her world, so she couldn’t hate it all that much. 

 

Still, she really wished he’d wake up so she’d have someone to talk to. Someone who could keep her distracted from the fact that she was possibly a murderer. It was weighing on her mind pretty heavily, go figure. 

 

That and Merlin.

 

After she’d seen that portrait of him, she’d been a little hysterical. Hook had stared at her with alarm as she searched for any indication of where she could find him, or even if he was still alive. There’d been nothing except his name. Nothing. Just a giant portrait of man with only his name inscribed at the bottom. His first name. It could literally not have been more unhelpful if it tried. 

 

She’d turned to Hook, half hoping he’d say something along the lines of “Ah yes, my old mate, Merlin. Let me give him a ring.” Naturally, he had just stared at her blankly. Emma then debated rushing back to Arthur’s office and demand to know who the man was, but she figured that conversation would not go in her favor. So instead she could only focus on getting her ass to Phoenix and hoping there were answers there. 

 

They hadn’t been answers she wanted. 

 

Deciding that it was just too hot to lay there, she hopped out of the bed. Sliding into a pair of cheap rubber flip-flops, she meandered out into the hallway. She meant to just go get more ice, maybe just stick her head in the machine, but instead her legs carried her to the stairwell. Emma trudged up each flight, not really knowing where she was going, but knowing that she wanted to be up as high as possible. For whatever reason, the more she climbed, the father removed she felt from her problems. 

 

After about ten flights, she finally reached the door that led to the roof. A quick, light push revealed that the door was locked, and tiny, red lettering told her that it was for “Employees Only”. She hadn’t intended to come up here, but suddenly she desperately wanted to be on the roof. With a light shove, the lock broke easily enough under her ethereal strength, and she moved outside quickly, breathing in the fresh air. She moved over to the edge of the building, staring out over the city. There was no guard rail; not even a half wall to keep her from tumbling over, which is probably why only employees were allowed up there. Still, it felt nice not to be cooped up inside. 

 

Emma sat down, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the hotel. She was about thirty stories up, and she had a pretty good view from where she was. Tipping her head back and closing her eyes, she found herself smiling ever so slightly. “Merlin,” she whispered, eyes still shut. “If you’re out there, if you can hear me, I’d really appreciate some help.” She knew it was stupid, she knew he wouldn’t answer, but she was still disappointed when he didn’t. 

 

Instead, a different voice interrupted her thoughts. “I hope you’re not going to jump.”

 

Emma turned to find Hook watching her with a mildly amused expression. “Unfortunately for you, I wasn’t planning on it.” 

 

His hair looked a little rumpled, presumably from sleep, but he was still wearing black skinny jeans, even with the heat. “That’s good. It’d probably be hard to explain how you survived a fall like that.”

 

She smirked. “Ah the benefits of divinity.” 

 

“It’s truly a blessing.” Hook scratched his ear and looked almost uncomfortable. “Do you mind if I join you.” 

 

Emma patted the empty space beside her. “Sit.” 

 

Hook moved so that he was seated next to the angel, their shoulders touching. He allowed his legs to dangle next to hers. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Emma knew what he was really asking. “I wasn’t really in the mood to have another flashback. I’m doing my best not to murder anyone.” 

 

“You’re not a murderer.” 

 

Emma turned to look at him. “How do you know?” 

 

Hook kept his eyes on the horizon. “I know murderers. I know you. You’re not one.” 

 

She shrugged. “Either way, the view up here was too good to pass up for something as silly as sleep.” 

 

The demon nodded slowly, and she could tell he wasn’t really hearing her. “You said that it was unfortunate for me that you weren’t about to jump.” 

 

Emma chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, I can’t imagine that you like babysitting me.” 

 

“I’d hardly call it babysitting, I like spending time with you.” He turned to face her then, a playfulness in his gaze that made him seem younger. “I quite fancy you from time to time, when you’re not yelling at me.” He smiled as he tacked on, “or being an insufferable martyr.”

 

Emma snorted, not wanting to address that first thing he said. “Last time I checked most martyrs weren't murderers.” 

 

Hook rolled his eyes. “You’re not a murderer,” he repeated, this time with more emphasis. 

 

She sighed. “Yeah, well.” 

 

Hook studied her for a long time. “What happened at Arthur’s? With the portrait?” 

 

“The guy in it was from one of my dreams. We knew each other.” Emma’s mouth twisted into a frown, suddenly angry at the whole situation. She was so close and so damn far. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

 

“Whatever you say, Swan.” 

 

She had expected him to change the subject, and she was frustrated he hadn’t. She took it upon herself. “I’m surprised Arthur didn’t kill you.” 

 

Hook looked genuinely confused by her statement. “What?’

 

“I’m surprised he didn’t kill you, given how _bold_ you were being.” 

 

Hook chuckled, but there was an anger to the sound. “Aye, well, perhaps he knew he deserved every word of it.”

 

The angel snorted. “Something tells me that Arthur isn’t the type to sit back and think about what he does and doesn’t deserve.”

 

Hook nodded. “You’ll find that demons are like that.” 

 

Emma pulled her blonde hair over her shoulder, so that nothing was obstructing her view of him. “Not every demon is like that. You’re not like that.” 

 

Hook stared at her for a very long time, his face flickering through multiple states; confusion, anger, curiosity. He finally settled on looking guarded. “Tell me something, Swan. Your brother, he seems intent on appeasing you while we’re here. It’s almost as though he’s afraid you’re going to have a breakdown at any moment.” 

 

Emma avoided the question. “I _feel_ like I’m going to have a breakdown at any moment.”

 

Hook raised an eyebrow. “Understandable, but given the fact that I’m the only one who knows about your dreams, I sense there’s another reason.” 

 

Emma paused and swallowed audibly. She tried to force a smile, but there was a lump in her throat that was making it difficult. The angel wasn’t ready to open up to him quite that much. She was still trying her damnedest to keep her walls firmly erected, but she could feel him knocking on the outside of them. Still, he’d talked about his brother, so she figured she could give him just a little. “I spent some time here when I was younger. I went to prison here when I was 17.” 

 

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. His eyebrows shot up and his jaw slackened. “You went to jail?” 

 

Emma flinched. Her prison days were still a sensitive subject, surprisingly enough. “Just for a little bit. I was a homeless orphan, and I fell in with a bad crowd, as homeless orphans tend to. This guy that I had a thing with set me up to take the fall for a crime he committed.” She couldn’t look at him, not when she’d started talking, and not now. “I served my sentence and I never looked back. I think David is just scared it’s bringing up bad memories.” 

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hook cock his head. “Is it?”

 

She closed her eyes. “They’re memories. Whether or not they’re bad or good is just a matter of perspective. It’s over now anyways.” 

 

“Seems to me that no matter your _perspective,_ some pains are just meant to make us suffer.” 

 

That statement got her to finally look at him. She gave him a pained smile. “I have to believe that even the worst suffering gives us something. All the shit that I’ve had to wade through has to have been for something, it has to.” 

 

Hook’s eyes held a certain amount of malice, there was a clear challenge brewing between them. “What lesson was there to learn in my brother’s death? Why am I here when he’s not? He was a good man, he was a better man, and I was the one who got a second chance. What grand take away do I get from that?”

 

He was shouting now, but she knew it wasn’t at her. The darkness that was radiating in the space between them, sucking up all the oxygen, that wasn’t directed at her either. That was the only thing that kept her from moving backwards like her instincts were telling her to. 

 

The vein in Hook’s neck bulged out as he continued, and soon he was wildly gesticulating. “Or when he took her from me? When he murdered her right in front of me, what was the point of that, Swan?” Then, suddenly, all the anger seemed to drain out of his body. He slumped forward, and for a second, Emma thought he was going to fall off the building. He didn’t. He just sat quietly and stared out into the desert. “If you could tell me,” he whispered, “Why they’re dead and I’m alive, that would be much appreciated.” 

 

Emma sighed, and her fingers twitched. She wanted to comfort him, but she wasn’t entirely sure it would be welcome. “Is she why you gave into the darkness? Why you lost your wings?” She wasn’t sure he’d give her an answer, but she needed to know. 

 

Hook, who always seemed to radiate vitality, suddenly seemed like he was feeling every single one of those six hundred some years. “Aye. Her name was Milah. That demon I told you about, the one who taught me my mind trick, she was his wife.” Hook somehow managed to shoot her a smile that she imagined was for her benefit more than his. It was a simple assurance that he was okay. “One would think that would deter me in some way, but she was a fiery lass and I don’t think I ever stood a chance at resisting. When she wanted something, she’d get it.” 

 

“The demon found out.” 

 

Hook nodded slowly. “We were going to run off together, go somewhere far away. I don’t know how long he’d known about the affair, but one day he just,” he cut himself off then, voice tapering off in a whisper. His expression remained neutral, but he snarled, “He killed her. He killed her right in front of me. He said it was punishment for not being loyal; everything was about him.” Hook laughed then; a breathy, painful noise. “I accepted the darkness almost instantly, it was all just too much to handle.I spent the next few centuries trying desperately to kill him.” 

 

Emma looked at him with blatant fascination. She knew his story was a sad one, but this turn of events was something she’d been largely unprepared for. “Did you do it?” 

 

“It’s complicated,” Hook replied, mouth twisting into a sneer before he continued. “I told you he’s powerful, but I don’t think you can begin to comprehend just how powerful he is. Very few people even know that the exists; those that do refer to him as the Dark One.” 

 

“Sounds almost as ominous as the Supreme Overlord.” 

 

Hook snorted, and Emma was fleetingly proud of herself for making him kind of laugh. “He makes Arthur, look like a magician performing parlor tricks. The Dark One is the literal embodiment of all the darkness in the world. All demons were born out of him. He is also, understandably, very hard to kill.” 

 

Emma felt like she should be concerned that she’d never heard anything about this really powerful “Dark One”. Hook could be lying, of course, but she didn’t know why he would. He had no reason to, at least not to her. It felt like they were past that. “Why is he so hard to kill?”

 

Hook sighed, his face pensive. “Mortifero can’t kill him.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“It cuts him, but it doesn’t do any real damage. The only thing that can kill him is a dagger.” 

 

Emma paused. “A dagger?” 

 

Hook looked slightly affronted by the disbelief in her voice. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I spent centuries looking into this. A very special dagger is the only thing that can kill him.” 

 

Emma was still uncertain, but her lie detector, her superpower, wasn’t acting up, so he was telling the truth. At the very least, he believed it. “So where is this dagger?” 

 

“He keeps it on him. Or it’s lost. Either way, no one knows except for him.” Hook seemed to ponder something for a moment. “And perhaps one other person.” 

 

“And who might that be?” 

 

Hook gave her a smile, and she sensed he was more at ease. The hard part of the story was over. “The Savior.” 

 

This was all starting to sound more like a fairytale than she could allow for in her skeptical mind. “The Savior? Who’s that?” 

 

“Another question no one has the answer to.” On this subject, they seemed to be equal parts unbelieving. “The Savior is supposed to be the one to destroy The Dark One, but whoever they are, they disappeared a long time ago.” 

 

“Sounds like they’re falling down on the job,” Emma laughed. 

 

Hook smirked. “Aye, a real slacker.”

 

“Well, given what you’ve said about the Dark One, I wouldn’t want to be the one tasked with destroying him.” 

 

The demon’s jaw flexed, and Emma instantly regretted her words. Before she could say anything though, he was speaking. “He’s not the most pleasant of creatures, but he was generous enough to impart some of his knowledge on me.” Hook tapped a finger against his temple. 

 

It was a half-hearted attempt to keep the mood light, but Emma accepted it. “Ah yes, the ability to inflict crippling mental pain. What a _generous_ guy.” 

 

Hook gave her a small smile, and opened his mouth to reply, but quickly shut it again. He seemed to ponder something, his eyebrows furrowing as he warred with himself. Then he said, “I could teach you.”

 

Emma couldn’t mask her surprise. She knew his time with the Dark One had been horrible on him, had ultimately led to him choosing a dark path. She couldn’t imagine what would make him want to revisit that, even in a small way. “Really?” 

 

“You’re definitely powerful enough, if you want to learn.” He scratched behind his ear. “At the very least, it’ll keep me from getting bored while you all chase your tails trying to solve this murder.”

 

Emma laughed, doing her best to sound offended. “Hey, you’re part of team murder solvers too! If we suck, so do you!”

 

“Team murder solvers? We sound very scary,” Hook pushed her lightly with his shoulder, humoring her. 

 

“Three very ornery demons, two angels, and keep in mind, I may be homicidal, and one crimefighting human? We’re downright lethal.”

 

Hook raised an eyebrow in a suggestive manner. “Yes, well, truth be told, I’m really just here for Dave.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Emma shot back. She was smiling so widely her face hurt. It’d been a long time since she’d smiled like that. He was smiling too; a beautiful smile that made his eyes crinkle and the scar on his cheek scrunch. 

 

She wanted to kiss him.

 

It was an odd thought and she had no idea where it’d come from. Okay, maybe she had some idea where it had come from, but it was totally unwelcome. She had way too much on her plate to even entertain a thought like that. Besides, she doubted he would even be receptive to the idea. They were just too different. 

 

Emma cleared her throat and put a little space between them. He seemed to get the message, sliding further away from her. She tried to pretend she didn’t feel colder. “Speaking of David, he’s gonna be pissed if we show up tomorrow tired. I should probably try and get some sleep.” 

 

Hook nodded and gave her a half-hearted smile. “Aye, I suppose you’re right. You go on and I’ll head in later.” 

 

Emma paused, gnawing on her lip. She felt like she should say something, offer to wait for him, but she didn’t think that would be good for either of them. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, and she allowed herself to touch him gently on the shoulder as she stood up. “Let’s hope I don’t murder anyone,” she threw in, hoping to leave on a light note. She turned to go then, making it about halfway to the door to the roof before he spoke again. 

 

“I’m in the room across from yours, so if anything goes awry you know where to find me.” He said it so quietly, so casually, like it was nothing.

 

It definitely wasn’t nothing. “What?” Emma asked, a little dumbstruck. “I figured you’d be in the Presidential Suite or something.” 

 

Hook chuckled. “No, I wanted to be close just in case you, you know, murdered someone.” He turned so he was facing her and added, “In case you needed me.” He smiled then, and if Emma didn’t know him so well at this point she wouldn’t have been able to see it. She wouldn’t have been able to see the touch of vulnerability in his expression. The sincerity in his statement. 

 

Emma couldn’t explain the tightness in her chest that came with his words. She didn’t really know how to express how much his offer meant to her, so she said, “You wanted a reason.You wanted a reason to stay alive. I’m your reason. I needed you here, I needed you to help me get through this. I needed you here, and I needed you to be the person you are now. The person that all those tragedies made you. Maybe that’s not enough for you, but it’s everything to me. So, thank you for that.” She hoped it would be enough. She hoped he would understand. 

 

Hook called her an open book, and, like always, he had no trouble reading her. “Goodnight, Emma.” 

 

She smiled and turned back towards the door. She didn’t say anything until she was grasping the handle, and then, knowing he’d hear, she whispered, “Goodnight, Killian.” 

 

**OOO**

 

Detective Steve was really starting to grate on the few nerves that she had left. 

 

It wasn’t his fault really. He was clearly drawn to her, which wasn’t an uncommon thing for humans. She radiated light and cheery, warm, happy things, or some other bullshit. Good humans were supposed to be attracted to her. 

 

It wasn’t his fault.

 

Didn’t make her any more inclined to act jovial towards him. 

 

He kept trying to regale her with tales of his numerous saves, which only made her more inclined to ask why he hadn’t solved this case, if he truly was the best cop ever. Everyone else seemed to be amused by her obvious annoyance. She thought she was doing a good job at hiding it, but she slipped up now and again.

 

Particularly when he was rude to Hook. 

 

The demon seemed to be in a good mood today, constantly poking fun at her brother and shooting her flirtatious smirks. She was inclined to believe that his sunny demeanor was for her benefit; he knew she was nervous. 

 

It was time to find out if she was behind all of this. 

 

She had her head pressed against the cool glass of the black SUV she was riding in. Her eyes had shut a while back, after they’d driven out of Phoenix, because something about staring at the endless desert made her anxious. Her feet were planted up on the dash, knees tucked so that the tops were touching her chest. Detective Steve had seemed displeased when she’d done that, but if he was going to throw a fit then he shouldn’t have demanded she sit in the passenger seat. 

 

Hook and Will were in the backseat, which neither seemed happy about. Will was directly behind her, and every once and a while she’d look into the door mirror and find him making a face at her. She’d admit that she’d smiled once or twice. Hook was sitting behind Steve, and he had his body pressed up against the door, as though he were debating on whether or not to open it and abandon ship. She suspected that he’d chosen that spot because if anything went awry, he could get to the Detective quickly. 

 

She wasn’t sure if he was going to protect the human or the angel. 

 

David and Mary Margaret were following their car in a smaller vehicle of their own. Emma had been surprised when Regina had eagerly volunteered to stay behind with Henry. She knew that the Queen liked to spend time with her kid, but she didn’t expect her to give up the chance to investigate. When she questioned Regina, the pieces had fallen into place.

 

“You can’t stay with him,” Regina had explained slowly, as though Emma were daft. 

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware of that, but you don’t have to. Mary Margaret is happy to stay with him.” 

 

“He shouldn’t even be here,” Regina had shot a little too aggressively for Emma’s liking. 

 

“You think I’m not aware of that? It wasn’t like I had much of a choice,” Emma had hissed. 

 

Regina had paused, taking a deep breath through her nose. “I know, I’m sorry. I know you’re doing the best you can, just let me help.”

 

Emma had raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea.” 

 

The demon had shifted her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. “I want to. Henry’s well-being is very important to me, and since you _can’t_ watch him, I want to do it myself.” She’d looked Emma dead in the eye then. “You know I’ll take protect him.” 

 

Regina, for her all her faults, cared for Henry very deeply. Emma knew that in that department the Queen could be trusted. So she’d left her son in the demon’s charge. 

 

The woman they were visiting, Anne Cooper, lived in Vail, Arizona. It was about a two hour drive from Phoenix up into the mountains. Her son, Connor, had been killed in 1998 along with two other victims. She didn’t know anything other than that. Detective Steve was being very cagey with information, probably because he wanted to be important. The only thing Emma knew for sure was that she was not in for a pleasant conversation. 

 

The sound of her phone ringtone pulled her out of her revere. She could feel everyone staring at her as Ice, Ice Baby began to blare throughout the car. She really needed to change that. A quick glance at the device told her that Mary Margaret was calling. 

 

“I didn’t know you were a fan of,” Hook trailed off, clearly not knowing who the song was by.

 

“Vanilla Ice,” Will supplied.

 

“Yes, him. I didn’t take you for that type of woman.” 

 

She didn’t need to turn around to know they were both grinning ear to ear. “Shut up,” she muttered as she swiped across the screen. “What’s up?” 

 

“How’s your ride going?” There was a knowingness in Mary Margaret’s voice that came with being friends for so long. 

 

“Probably the way you’re imagining it’s going.” Emma turned to glance pointedly at Will and Hook in the backseat, who were both pretending they weren’t listening to her conversation. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Yes, yes, nothing to be concerned with,” Her friend answered much too quickly.

 

“The fact that you said there’s nothing to be concerned with means that there’s something.” When she was met with silence, Emma continued with worry in her voice. “What is it?” 

 

“It’s nothing, Emma, I swear. It’s just that Leroy called.” 

 

Emma sucked in a breath. Leroy was an angel friend of Mary Margaret, friend being a loose term. The man was one of the most unpleasant people Emma had ever met. He was constantly in a sour mood and time and time again he proved himself the worst gossip. Leroy also stood about five feet tall, at the maximum. Still, he was unflinchingly loyal to Mary Margaret, and Emma often reaped the rewards of that dedication. 

 

Leroy was well connected in the divine world; he worked some government job that he pretended was very glamorous, but which Emma could never remember the name of. All she knew was that he was often tasked with covering divine workings up to make sure that humans never found out. He was the one who had destroyed Emma’s Death Certificate and any record of it after her untimely demise. The angel had also helped her regain custody of Henry, so really, she owed him everything. 

 

After they’d discovered that the most recent victims were angels and demons, they’d asked Leroy to check and see if the other ones had been. There was a good chance that, if they were, it had been covered up; any indication of divinity would have been hidden from police records. Emma never knew how they did it, but tracks were always covered, at least in the angelic community. Angels didn’t like loose ends. 

 

“Did he give confirmation?” Emma chose her words carefully, knowing Detective Steve was listening. 

 

Mary Margaret paused. “Yes.” 

 

Emma took a breath, holding onto her calm facade. “How could we have missed that?” 

 

There was muttering on the other end and a little bit of static before her brother’s voice came through. He must’ve had Mary Margaret put him on speaker. “We weren’t looking for it, Emma. It was a fluke we caught it this time. It wasn’t even us! Graham was the one who found the marks,” and then, because he knew her so well, he added, “This wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have done anything.” 

 

Emma bit her lip. She was angry. She was angry she hadn’t figured out what was going on sooner. She was angry she was so helpless. She was angry and there was nothing to be done about it. “Anything else?” 

 

She could practically see them look at one another as though they were right in front of her. “Emma, after David found out about these cases, I had Leroy check to see if the circumstances were similar here.” 

 

“And?” 

 

“They were. Connor Cooper, specifically, was an angel.” 

 

She didn’t have any energy left, she couldn’t find the strength within herself to care, and so she said. “Okay.” 

 

**OOO**

 

Anne Cooper lived in the middle of fucking nowhere. 

 

It was a beautiful home. The architecture was typical of the Southwest; the roof was flat and the outside was a deep reddish brown. She had a few odd looking iron statues littering her front yard and there were cacti everywhere. Emma could see a pool in the backyard, and she knew there would be a spectacular view of the Rincon mountains. 

 

Maybe she could ask Anne Cooper if she could live out the rest of her days here. 

 

It would be the perfect spot for a potentially murderous angel. She and Anne could float in the pool and drink margaritas together. At least here she wouldn’t be in danger of hurting anyone. Her life could be simple. 

 

Probably sensing her agitation, Hook turned towards her as they approached the door. “You ready, Swan?” 

 

It wasn’t his fault that she was in such a bad mood, but he’d chosen to talk to her, so he was about to bear the brunt of that mood. “Ready to question an aging woman about the unsolved murder of her son, knowing that I may very well be that murderer? I’m psyched,” she snarled quietly enough that at least the two humans wouldn’t hear.

 

“Yeah, maybe don’t mention the part about you possibly being the murderer.”

 

Emma shot him a disbelieving look. Hook shrugged. 

 

The angel’s attention was quickly drawn to the massive wooden door that Detective Steve had begun knocking on. “Ms. Cooper? It’s Phoenix PD. We’re here to talk about your son.” When no reply came, the detective tried again. “Ms. Cooper?”

 

Nothing. Emma listened very hard, using her divine senses to see if any noise was coming from the house. She could hear flies buzzing around, a rattlesnake moving across the sand, even David’s steady heartbeat, but there was nothing from inside the house. 

 

“Maybe she’s out,” Mary Margaret suggested. 

 

Hook looked pointedly over to where a Toyota Camry was parked. “Aye, maybe the seventy year old woman went for a quick jaunt through the mountains by herself,” Hook deadpanned. 

 

Mary Margaret looked like she was trying very hard not to punch him in the face. “Well she’s clearly not here.” 

 

“She’s supposed to be,” Detective Steve muttered under his breath before he began pounding on the door again. “Ms. Cooper!” 

 

“Do you have a phone number or something we can call?” David asked.

 

“I only have her home phone,” Detective Steve dismissed. With no warning, he withdrew his gun and began forcefully kicking on the heavy door. 

 

“What the hell are you doing?” David yelled, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder as he tried to get him to cease. 

 

Detective Steve shook him off. “I’ve known this woman for years, worked with this woman for years; she never leaves the house. Something is wrong.”

 

“We can’t go in without a warrant.”

 

“We can if we have probable cause,” Detective Steve shouted, all the while still kicking.

 

Emma knew David was an absolute stickler for the rules, except, apparently when it came to protecting her ass, so he’d never budge. She could feel it though, something was wrong, or something was about to be. She needed this case solved. Without thinking, she looked over her shoulder at Hook, who nodded at the silent question she was asking. 

 

“Move,” Emma muttered, not waiting for the detective to respond before she was shoving him out of the way. With one kick, she felt the lock crack as the door swung open. Steeling herself, she drew her gun and entered the house. 

 

“You’re a strong lady,” she heard the detective murmur.

 

Five pairs of footsteps followed her into the spacious home. It was an open floor-plan, with the kitchen and living room all conglomerated in one area. The lights were all on, even though it was daytime, and there was a steaming mug of tea sitting on the countertop. 

 

Ms. Cooper was nowhere to be seen. 

 

“Spread out,” Emma commanded.

 

“Spread out to where? There’s only one floor,” Will chimed in. It only took one aggravated glare from Emma to send him reeling. “Ms. Cooper! Are you hiding in your bathroom?” He yelled as he stalked off. 

 

Emma rolled her eyes before she pointed at a closed door off to the left that she assumed lead to the bedroom. “Can you three go check that out?” She made pointed eye contact with the detective, David, and Mary Margaret. 

 

David nodded and he and the other human began to walk towards the room. Before she followed, Mary Margaret looked over at Emma. Slowly, she pulled a small dagger that Emma could immediately tell was made of mortifero. The women exchanged a nod, and soon her friend was moving towards the room as well. 

 

Waiting until they’d disappeared, Emma turned towards Hook. “Are you getting any vibes?”

 

Hook, who had been staring at the ceiling, looked at her in confusion. “Vibes?”

 

Emma looked at him with exasperation. She began to wave her arms around in a way that reminded her vaguely of her brother. “You know, are you sensing anything bad? Anything demonic? Are your demon sensors going off?” 

 

Hook laughed, clearly not taking her seriously. “My demon sensors? Where might those be located? Next to my horns?” 

 

She moved to give him a light shove. “Please, take this seriously. A woman is missing.” 

 

The demon held up his hand and hook in mock surrender. “I know, I know. If it makes you feel any better, there doesn’t seem to be anything amiss here.” He paused then, and gave her a lopsided smirk. “My demon senses are not going off.” 

 

“I knew you had them!” She cried, laughing. Emma knew she should probably be taking this more seriously, but she figured she deserved a little bit of sunshine amidst the storm.

 

Once again, fate was there to remind her of all she couldn’t have. 

 

Her eyes caught on a picture sitting on a table next to the door. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed it before. The breath stopped flowing. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

 

A wave of deja vu hit her as she walked slowly towards the photo. She could hear Hook asking her if she was okay. Emma wanted to tell him that she was fine, he didn’t need to worry about her any more than he already was, but the words died on her tongue. It was London all over again. 

 

Except this time the face staring back at her was one she had encountered not so long ago.

Emma picked up the photo, which was tampering with evidence, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. The angel had to assume that the older woman in the photo was Anne Cooper. Ms. Cooper was an older woman with light red hair and big coke bottle glasses. She was younger in the photo, maybe sixty, but she still looked like the quintessential grandmother; the kind Emma never had. It didn’t really matter. Anne Cooper was not the one she was concerned with.

 

The woman in the photo was hugging a man, probably in his early 40’s. He shared Ms. Cooper’s flaming red hair and toothy grin. The guy was tall, probably well over six feet which was alarmingly clear when he was standing next to the older woman. He was a large guy; big and burly. His skin was tanned and he was clearly a fan of the gym. He was a force, the kind of guy you didn’t want to mess with. The kind of guy who would work in the Phoenix Women’s Correctional Facility. 

 

Connor Cooper had been a guard at the jail she’d been in. 

 

The sound of the door flying open startled her. She instantly turned to meet whatever threat was coming, the picture frame falling out of her hand and shattering on the floor. Hook was at her side in an instant, shielding half her body behind his. Everyone else came rushing out into the main living space as well, humans drawn by the noise and divine drawn by the presence. She couldn’t acknowledge any of them though, her eyes focused on the man in front of her.

 

He was wearing a white button down and a black and gold blazer in spite of the heat. The man stood tall with his hands behind his back. He took them all in, eyes flickering across the room as he made a silent assessment before they finally settled on her. His gaze held a conflicting set of messages; anticipation, anger, fondness, betrayal, sadness, amusement. It was only when he’d reached that final emotion, his mouth quirking up into a beautiful smile, that he spoke. 

 

“Savior, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

 

Merlin. 


End file.
